


When You're Weak, I'll Be Here

by mysunyourmoon



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, BRENDON CAN BE VERY BLUNT SOMETIMES, M/M, and parents can be A+ dicks, ill keep the tags updated, there are scenes of violence but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysunyourmoon/pseuds/mysunyourmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was younger my mom would tell me stories about monsters, and tell me that they were real and they were out there, only she didn't tell me about the ones that weren't hiding under my bed. She didn't think to tell me about the ones disguised as everyday people, the ones who walk next to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Update: I will be posting "Part One: Chapter One" next Wednesday, unless I decide to post early.

"I love you," he says, and I look up from my shoes. His eyes are wide and alert, boring into mine. "I really do."

We stand in the middle of the road, the street lights casting harsh shadows across his beautiful face. There's a crisp scent in the air, the smell of new snow, but we're in Nevada, it never snows. In the distance I hear cars honking their horns from somewhere downtown, and across the street a bell rings from the opening of a convenience store door. His feet shift a bit but his eyes stay on me, and I can't help but notice the sad look that he has. I want to tell him that it could be different, it would be different if I wasn't such a fuck up, but I am, and this is why we are here. I wish I could take it all back.

"I know," I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. He doesn't even flinch, he knows I've had this planned. My speech is rehearsed, like I've practiced in the mirror for hours on end before agreeing to meet with him, only I haven't. I'm not aware of half the words coming out of my mouth. "I know you do, but I don't deserve that. After all I've put you through? In this year I've known you, I've treated you terribly. You, before anyone else, deserve the best there is, and I am not it." I nearly choke on the final words, but I managed to keep myself together. 

He isn't looking at me anymore, instead he’s looking anywhere but my general direction. I've hurt him, but I can't say it shocks me. In the last couple of months there's not much that I've done to make him anything other than upset. I made one mistake, and everything snowballed. I was on a streak, seeing how many times I can make his smile turn into a frown just by opening my mouth. Sadly the answer is still undetermined, as the count is still going. I can never do any good for him.

"So is this it then?" I hear him say quietly, barely louder than a whisper. I wish I could tell him otherwise. I wish I could tell him that this isn't the end, that this is just a bump on the road of life, just a page in the chapter of us. But if I did I would be lying, because this is no bump. This is a dead end, this is where a bridge has been burned, and it will never go under construction. The chapter has ended too soon, the rest of the pages ripped out to save the reader from more pain. The next page is a new chapter that doesn't include me.

"I wish it wasn't like this, believe me I do," I gently plead. He's looking at me again and I almost want him to look away, but those eyes deny, and they stay pinned on me, glassy and broken. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I can't do anything for you, not with everything that has happened. You need to understand."

"The only thing I don't understand is why you're not willing to try. After all this time, we've been alright, and the moment something goes wrong you want to leave? We can get through this, but you're not willing to try." His voice is beginning to raise now and I'm starting to feel a bit nervous. "I just... I can't believe you. I really can't. I thought you were better than this. You are better than this."

And I snap. I lunge forward and grab him harshly by his biceps and pull him close to me, and for a split second he looks scared. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I snarl as his hands go to grasp my forearms. "You have no right. You have no right to tell me what I am and what I am not. You must have had some fucking high expectations of me because," I step back and throw my arms in the air with a sad smile on my face. "This is it. This is me. I'm a selfish asshole who doesn't care about anyone but myself, and I am not better than that. I build relationships so I can destroy them. I'm toxic to everyone around me. That is what I am, and you can't tell me otherwise. You barely even know me." I stop to take a breath, and a tear rolls down my face. I blink a couple times before continuing. "You remind me of my father, assuming you know what I am and what I'm like, but that's bullshit, because you don't know me any better than he does."

I’m backing up now, desperate to get away from the situation. I was always a runner when it came to fight or flight situations, and now is no different. The fact that it’s _him_ makes me want to run more. He is silent for a second before he laughs dryly. “That’s gold, Jesus Christ. You? Not care about anyone else? I’m not even going to mention myself, but what about Oliver? You care about him so much, but you didn’t think about him did you?” I stop, and he’s right. There is not a thing I wouldn’t do for Oliver, but that’s different. “And I don’t know you? Come on, now that’s _bullshit_ honestly. I know so much about you, from small things to your favourite colour to how you like your coffee, and all the things you hate about yourself, and all the things you’re not willing to admit you love. I know you, and you wish I didn’t.”

Suddenly I am down for the count, his words hitting me like a ton of bricks. I choke as a sob rips through me and I fall to my knees, my hands pressing into the hard road to support my upper body. I can’t see him as he walks over and crouches in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not like that,” I whisper, but we both know he’s right, but for all the wrong reasons. His story is not straight, he does not know the details. “I do… I do wish you knew me, and I admit you do but you know the things I don’t want you to… You know all the bad that I have done, and all the bad I am capable of doing, to you and to others.”

“No, please look at me,” he requests, using his other hand to slowly tilt my head up, as his hand on my shoulder pushes my torso back, making me sit on my knees. We’re level with each other now, and in this light, he looks like an angel; from the glimmer in his eyes to the way the streetlights shine against his hair, he looks like an angel in its most beautiful form. He looks like the angel who will save me. “Everyone does bad things, but everyone does good things too, and sometimes the good makes up for the bad, y’know? You do a lot of good things. I know that you’ve done bad things to me, but I’ve forgiven you, don’t you understand that? I’ve forgiven you.”

He doesn’t know that just because he’s forgiven me, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven myself. I’m not so forgiving when it comes to myself and I’m sitting here, at the lowest I have ever been, crying in the middle of a fucking street, because I’ve torn myself up inside. The things I’ve done run on replay in my mind like a movie, and I can’t stop watching. It’s an endless stream of mistakes, a constant reminder of what I’ve done. If I could I would take the pain he’s felt because of me and give it to myself, feel it for myself. I would go back in time if given the chance and change everything, I would give him everything he deserves and not what he got. 

But this isn’t Back to the Future and I can’t go back in time, so I have to sit here and deal with what I have done wrong, but it’s kind of hard with his arms sliding around my waist, and him pulling me to my feet. We’re nearly level now, with the exception of a couple inches. I feel his finger graze my forehead as he pushes my hair out of my face as he smiles at me reassuringly. I give a small sigh before the corners of my lips curl up shyly, as I duck my head into the nook of his neck. “So are we okay?” He asks quietly.

I want to say yes, and every fibre of my being is screaming at me to do so, and I almost do. I take a large step backwards, raising my head to meet his eyes. “I’m still going to New York, and I am not letting you come with me,” I’m sniffling now, trying to hold back tears that I know will soon return, as he gives me a look telling me he’s crushed. “We need space, or at least I need space, after all this. That’s understandable, yeah?”

He gives a dry laugh and kicks at the ground. “You need over a thousand miles of space? Do you hate me that much?” He asks in a dejected tone. I’m shaking my head, I could never hate him, but that doesn’t stop me from hating myself. He doesn’t know that I can’t… I can’t be around him and be his friend, we’ve gone so far beyond friends that it makes me uncomfortable to think of us as anything other than partners. I need that space, I need to be away from him, somewhere I know I won’t see him until I’m ready. The school there is just an excuse.

I turn around, and begin to walk away with my back to him. 

“I love you!” He calls, desperate this time. 

_I know_ , I think, _I love you too_.


	2. "We're in NEVADA."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Brendon's point of view, in case anyone is wondering.

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ ******

**Chapter One:**

**"We're in NEVADA."**

My older siblings always told me that high school would be the best four years of my life, but I started my third year today and the past two haven't been great, so I am assuming they were lying to make me feel better. Most of them are aware of how I’m the laugh of the school. 

Hell, they would probably laugh at me right now too, as I'm curled up in a ball on the floor of the boys locker room, close to crying as a guy named Kevin and his friends kick me. "Hey fag, where's your boyfriend now?" The boyfriend they are referring too is none other than Jon Walker, a graduate who happens to be my friend, and not my lover. They never get that right though. The group of boys laugh and continue to kick my sides until the bell rings, signalling the start of a new period. After they leave I sit up a bit and wipe my face. No one needs to see me crying, since they already think I am a baby it kind of reinforces the assumption. 

When I look in the mirror I wish I didn't; the lenses of my glasses are cracked, there’s a small cut on my cheek from where I was first punched, my hair is ruffled from where my head was pressed into the dirty floor, and my clothes are wrinkled and covered faintly with dirt. I attempt to flatten my hair a bit, and try to brush off as much dirt as I can before leaving the locker room.

I get to class late, but it's math and my teacher, Mrs. Hill, says it is fine since she's just starting attendance, but not to make it a habit. There's only one desk left, surrounded by Kevin and his friends, except for directly behind it, where a boy sits, wearing a black hoodie with the hood covering his face.

She reads out names of kids who I would rather not share a room with, let alone possibly have to work with, until she draws my attention, along with everyone else's, when she reads off a certain name. "Ryan Ross?" She asks, looking around the room. 

"Present," a voice mumbles, coming from behind me. I reduce the urge to turn around and gape at him like the rest of the class. Ryan Ross? As in the star player of the school's hockey team? That Ryan Ross? Apparently so as I see a group of girls near the front of the class flush red and start giggling. 

Personally I had always thought Ryan Ross was kind of an urban legend. I know that's weird to say, but honestly I had never seen him before. Sure I had heard stories upon stories of him, of things he has done at parties, and a lot of other stuff I wouldn't want to know, but I had never actually seen him in person. Jon's girlfriend Cassie always goes on about how he's really cute, though "not as cute as Jon". And now here I am, sitting in the same room as the boy who has basically haunted my high school experience. The legend finally has a face. 

Mrs. Hill smirks at him. "Could you please remove your hood? Also, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my class?" 

Ryan Ross sighs. "I suppose I failed last year. Had to get in your class somehow." He tells her, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. Do my ears deceive me or is Ryan Ross flirting with our math teacher? Mrs. Hill doesn't seem bothered, she just laughs and says that's enough from him before continuing on with the list. 

"Brendon Urie?" She asks, smiling at me. "Yes, always here. Late today though, but I will not give you detention this time." Kevin leans across the aisle and punches my arm. I wince a bit as Mrs. Hill glares at him. The rest of class passes by in a haze as I feel Ryan's foot tap on the leg of my chair. 

~~~

The wind is cold as I sit the roof of the school, eating my lunch. From here I can see students playing sports on the football field, and a group of boys smoking by the front gates. It's my favourite place to eat, and I found it one day freshman year while I was running from Kevin. Technically I am not supposed to be up here, but the cameras are broken, so no one really knows I’m here in the first place. The roof is quiet and away from other students, which makes it the perfect spot for me to eat.

I'm watching a boy try to do a handstand when suddenly someone's beside me. I turn my head quickly, and see that it's Ryan Ross. This is where I take a breath. I look at him and swear internally, because fuck, he's as hot as they said he was. He has a slim face, and wide honey coloured eyes that are rimmed with eyeliner, and his straight brown hair falls into his face slightly. "Hey," he says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He takes one out and offers it to me. I shake my head and he brings it to his lips. "You're from my math class right? What's your name again?" He asks, flicking his lighter a few times before lighting his cigarette.

I watch way his lips curl around the cigarette as he takes a deep breath in, before he pulls it away and blows out a stream of smoke. I hesitate. "Brendon Urie, I'm a junior."

"Oh so you're the gay kid everybody talks about," he says, smirking. "Yeah, I've heard about you. Who would've thought the little mormon boy was gay?" I nearly choke on my saliva because one, Ryan Ross knows who I am and two, he only knows who I am because he heard I was gay. 

"I'm not gay," I say, a bit defensively. It's ridiculous how people can just look at someone and assume they're gay nowadays. Just because I wear brightly coloured clothing, want to be a hairdresser, and seem a bit outgoing does not mean I’m gay.

"No? So you weren't the kid who got fucked by Kevin Sanders on the front porch at his Halloween party freshman year? Or the guy who was caught giving Kevin a blowjob in the cafeteria kitchen a week later?" he asks, sounding bored. I sputter and flush red. 

"Well I mean... That one time I was drunk, that doesn't count. And the other time well he told me he'd break my arm if I didn't. Do you mind?" I ask, gesturing to give me his cigarette. He smirks before passing it over. I've only smoked a couple times before, all when I was hanging out with Jon and his college friends. I don't cough this time though, which is a relief because I would hate to make a fool of myself in front of _the_ Ryan Ross.

"Thought you said you didn't want one? Change your mind? Don't worry, keep it I have more." He advises before pulling the pack out again. "Don't worry Urie, people make mistakes. You've got two years left, you're bound to make some good memories. Maybe meet a boy, sorry I mean a girl, and you'll have a good time." I glance at him as I take a drag if my cigarette. I’ll be honest, just a few moments ago I assumed he was going to tell me to fuck off or something, not smoke with me and spew inspiring shit. Somehow it just doesn’t line up with how I imagined he would be, but I guess that is my fault for assuming he was an asshole jock type, stupid stereotypes.

"Oh shit I knew I'd find you up here Ry," We both look behind us to see the door to the stairs is open, and none other than Spencer Smith is standing there with a goofy smile on his face. "Always forcing your bad habits on to freshman I see, I leave you alone for ten minutes and this is what you do." He walks over to us while playfully shaking his head. 

Spencer Smith is the other half to the infamous Ryan/Spencer duo (obviously). I've heard that the two of them have been friends since they were kids, and it wouldn't really surprise me considering all the stories I've heard. Spencer specifically is very social both in and out of the school band, as he's the best drummer we have. We're in the same grade but we haven't had a lot of classes together, and the ones we did have, I was too nervous to say anything to him. 

"No Spence, you've got it wrong. He _wanted_ the cigarette, I didn't force him into it," Ryan chuckles putting a hand on my shoulder. "And this is Brendon Urie, junior just like you." 

"The gay one?" Spencer asks with genuine interest. My face goes red again as Ryan just about loses his shit next to me, telling Spencer that he said the same thing. 

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I demand. Ryan composes himself and shares a look with Spencer, who hesitates. 

"There's just a lot of talk about you. Shit like you and Kevin." Spencer draws out, speaking slow as if not to scare me. 

"Spence it's not like that," Ryan gives him a quick look. "Just leave him alone about it. He told me he isn't gay so we'll leave it at that." Spencer nods, and reminds Ryan that the bell is going to ring soon. 

"Hey Brendon, I have a hockey game next Thursday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? We could hang out after, with Spence. Y'know, if you're interested." Ryan offers, and Spencer nods. I scratch the back of my head, awkward all of a sudden. 

"Yeah sure. I don't know where the arena is though..." Honestly I didn't even know there was an arena. This whole hockey team bullshit has to be made up. We're in _Nevada_. 

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't. Shit, I didn't mean that in a bad way I mean, it's just not a well known spot. Yeah. Okay. Here," he says, passing me his phone. "Put your number in there and I will text it to you. If you need a ride let me know."

~~~

The rest of the day kind of flew by, and soon enough I was climbing into Jon Walker's old red Honda. "So Bren, how was your first day of school?" He grins at me before tearing out of the parking lot. I look around the car and I notice he's cleaned it recently, probably because Cassie was getting fed up with the amount of trash littering the floor, and a pair of flip flops are on the dash. Jon is basically obsessed with wearing flip flops, and by this point he probably has a permanent sunburn on his feet from refusing to wear sunscreen. He doesn't like to wear them while driving though. 

"Well Jon, I met Ryan Ross today. For the first time in my life. We are supposed to hang out after his hockey game next Friday. Insane right? Hockey starting this early?" 

"I think the more insane part of that is you hanging out with him. You didn't even think he was real before today." Jon says while laughing. I love Jon, honestly. He's such a good friend and he's so easy to talk to. I'm not sure what state I would be in if I didn't have him by my side for the last couple of years. After graduating he and Cassie planned on going to college together, but they got accepted into different schools, and Jon wanted to wait for me, so she's going away to university and Jon is staying in their apartment. 

"Yeah he's in my math class. He sits behind me. He found me at lunch and he talked to me for a bit. Did you know the whole school basically knows about the whole fiasco with Kevin in freshman year? Well you probably did, Mr. Social Butterfly." I finish with a huff and look out the window, watching all the suburban houses flash by. "What if my mom finds out about that? She'll probably kick me out." 

"Maybe Ryan can house you," Jon suggests playfully. "Nah, your mom isn't going to find out Bren. I have no idea how she even would, and don't even say his parents would tell her because that would mean he told his parents, which is extremely unlikely since he's apart of The God Squad." The God Squad is Jon's name for anyone who believes in God and goes to church, as he himself doesn't, but he uses it mostly to refer to Kevin and his friends.

Soon enough we pull into my driveway and I'm plastering a fake smile on my face as I walk in the house to greet my mom, who is busy at the kitchen table with paperwork spread out. "Hello dear, how your first day?" She asks me, looking up from her work, and taking a sip of her water.

"It was alright, but I've got a ton of homework to do. Do you mind if I go upstairs?" I reply, kicking my shoes off by the door. My mom smiles at me, and says I can. She's always a sucker for academics, and homework was the perfect excuse to get away. 

The thing is, I don't like my parents, and truthfully, I don't think they like me all that much either. All their children grew up to be perfect, with straight A's, popular significant others, planning for university and marriage, whereas I so far do not have plans for marriage, and in no way hope to go to university.. I'm their conflicted child, the one who doesn't know what he wants to do with his life once people stop telling him how to live it. At this point I just want to move out, and maybe go to a hairdressing school. Also, there's the fact that they're Mormon, and though I was raised to be, I am not. They aren't aware of this tiny little detail yet, but I'm sure if they did I would be out on the street faster than I could blink. 

Once up the stairs I throw my backpack into my room before grabbing the first aid kit in the bathroom. With the door closed I shed my sweater and shirt to assess the damage, which isn't too bad. On the left side of my ribs I have a lot of bruising, which I decide to put ice on later, and I grab a small bandage to put over the cut on my face before glancing at my cracked glasses. With a sigh I return the kit to the cupboard and slink out of the bathroom.

Soon I am back in my room, lounging on my bed with my laptop settled in my lap, and suddenly I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out with a huge sigh, but smile when I read the message. 

Unknown Name: 

Hi Brendon it's Ry :)


	3. "Someone's Going to Get Their Ass Kicked"

  
**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Two:**

**"Someone's Going to Get Their Ass Kicked"**

I’m a week into school and even now, nothing is different than the first day; Kevin and the God Squad are still beating me up, I’ve been late to math multiple times, I eat lunch on the roof, and I lie to my mom about how my day has been. It seems like this year will be a repeat of the last, which resulted in me almost dropping out due to there not being any other schools I can transfer to. Besides, the rumours involving Kevin are sure to follow me everywhere. There are slight differences between this year and last year though, which include the disadvantage of Jon not being here, but the advantage of having the company of Ryan and Spencer at lunch time. Speaking of which, those two are not anything how I imagined them, which would be two popular guys obsessed with sports and girls. Well, Ryan kind of obsessed with hockey but he has to be, since it is all anyone besides Spencer and I talk to him about. Hockey this, hockey that, I’m surprised Ryan’s head hasn’t exploded yet, especially with the game coming up. Spencer on the other hand, he doesn’t like sports all that much, since no, marching band is not a sport, as Ryan would tell him. He can barely stand hockey, as “the fans are fighting in the stands more than the players on the ice”, or so Spencer says, but he attends every one of Ryan’s games in support, just like Ryan goes to all Spencer’s shows. The two of them truly are brothers.

Girls are different with these two, not what I thought. I don’t mean to be , _that guy_ but I kind of assumed that Ryan specifically was more of a player than a commitment kind of guy, that is, until I heard about his on-and-off-girlfriend Jessica Davis. Right now they aren’t really dating, but they had been dating for about seven months straight at one point until things started to get rocky between them due to Ryan getting stressed from school and not having enough time for her. Like I said, they aren’t dating right now, but Spencer says they might be soon, he just feels it, and I will probably get to meet her soon. With Ryan in a semi-serious relationship Spencer had deemed himself the ‘fun one’ who is going to have a good time being single, which makes Ryan laugh, because “Spencer doesn’t even want a girlfriend, and he just wants the pizza to himself” and Ryan is kind of right; the two of them laugh about it all the time. 

I guess in the end Ryan and Spencer are just two really nice and chill people that I may have had high expectations for, but I’m perfectly okay with it, and it’s nice having people around in absence of Jon. The three of us don’t spend a lot of time together, because as nice as they are, they do still have their own lives that do not include me. Sometimes Spencer has band practice, and other times Ryan hangs out with the rest of the jocks on the bleachers. Occasionally I’ll look over at him from my spot on the roof, and see him looking in my general direction. Though he may not actually be looking at me I get a bit happy anyway. 

So I hate to admit it but I have kind of been avoiding the rooftop. Yeah, it's a good place for hiding from Kevin, but it just feel lonely when I am up there by myself now. It was always my place, not even Jon came up there all the time, but it seems like it was also Ryan and Spencer's. I never really understood why the school had multiple lunch hours for different students, though I think it might be safe to say the main reason I never met Ryan Ross was because our lunches were always separate until this year. This year is starting to look up, because I've also found out from Ryan that Kevin has English during my lunch hour. Today just happens to be one of the days when both Ryan and Spencer are busy, and I find myself mindlessly wandering the halls in attempt to find something to do, anything really, but it seems the halls are bare, and it’s unusually quiet. 

But that’s when I hear it, when I begin to hear the steady rumble of what seems to be a large amount of footsteps pounding on the hallway floor, and the loud yelling of students. Coming down the English hall is a huge group of people, being led by none other than Kevin himself, yelling things about ‘the park’ and ‘someone’s gonna get their ass kicked’. I see a variety of students, from freshmen to seniors, guys to girls, and they all seem pretty excited. Near the back of the group I spot Henry, an old classmate, and I gently tug his sleeve as he goes past. “Oh, hey Brendon. What’s up?”

Henry and I used to share a lot of classes in the earlier years, and we used to hang out occasionally, until we hit high school, I’m not sure what happened. “What’s going on here?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck. The group of people are already exiting the hallway, just as teachers are starting to poe their heads out their doors to see what all the commotion was about. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them was contacting the principal, because there was at least fifty people chanting down the hallway. Henry runs a hand through his hair and starts chuckling. 

“You’ll never believe it; Kevin Sanders is going to fight _Ryan Ross_ at the park down the street. Like seriously? Kevin is going to get his ass kicked. I heard from Kyle, who heard from Wes, who heard from Jessica-”

“Henry, I get it, you heard from someone who heard from someone else, but _what_ did you hear?” I interrupted impatiently.

His cheeks flush a deep red. “Right, yeah, sorry. So anyway, apparently Kevin thinks that he shouldn’t be on the hockey team anymore because someone heard Ryan Ross say he doesn’t even enjoy it, so Kevin brought it up to him and then Kevin called him a ‘gay pussy’ or something like that. Everyone knows that shit has been going on between the two of them for years, and I guess Ryan finally snapped. He told Kevin to meet him at the park during lunch, so everyone’s going down there.”

Henry is right; since the dawn of time the two boys have been fighting, or so I’ve heard. I’m sure Kevin wanted to be captain of the hockey team, but unsurprisingly Ryan must have earned that spot, and as a result, Kevin and the God Squad want to kick his ass, most likely with the intention of injuring him enough so that he can’t play this season. My main concern should be something along the lines of ‘why isn’t Kevin in class?’ or ‘this is why Ryan ditched me?’ but instead I could care less.

~~

I’ve never seen such a cliche in my life, and I’m not lying. When Henry and I arrive at the park, a little while after everyone else, there is literally a circle of people chanting ‘fight’ as Ryan and Kevin stand in the centre. Kevin looks extremely riled up, whereas Ryan looks as calm as I’ve ever seen him, with his hip cocked to the side, one hand on said hip, and the other fixing his hair, while his face displays no emotion. The stance and the I-don’t-care attitude that’s radiating off Ryan is intense, and Kevin looks slightly concerned by it. I’m shoving myself through the throng of people, and once I get to the front I don’t even have time to blink before Kevin is pulling his arm back, and delivering a blow to Ryan’s face, who looks unfazed as he stumbled back, swearing a bit under his breath. “You gonna cry?” Kevin asks, his smirk evident in his tone. “Is little Ross-baby gonna cry? Gonna call his mama?” Ryan dabs at his nose with his dark blue sweater sleeve as a steady trail of blood leaks from it, but aside from the initial shock, he doesn’t seem affected. He takes a few steps forward before sending two of his own punches towards Kevin, but instead of aiming for his nose, one is directed at his side, and the other at his cheek. 

All their actions soon blur together as the fight continues, and I notice that while Kevin is a very social fighter, as in he has a lot of trash talk and talks to the crowd, Ryan is the opposite as he keeps his mouth shut the whole time. The fight itself seems pretty even until Kevin forcefully grabs Ryan by the shoulder and literally _throws_ him to the ground. 

 

I couldn't help myself. I lunged forward through the crowd, towards Ryan. "Holy shit Ryan are you okay?" I ask. I'm on my knees beside him, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look behind me to see Kevin smirking at the scene. 

"What's this Ross? Hanging out with faggots now? Don't tell me he's blowing you, because that's kind of gay." Kevin laughs, shoving my shoulder. Across the circle I see Spencer now, sadly shaking his head, "go" he mouths. 

"Screw off Brendon. And like you're one to talk Sanders," Ryan says, standing up. "He's _your_ old fuck buddy. Now _that's_ pretty fucking gay if you ask me." He snaps, turning his back to us, and starts walking to Spencer. "We'll finish this some other time; that black van doesn't necessarily give off the greatest atmosphere.” He pulls his box or cigarettes out of his pocket and motions to Spencer that they’re leaving, who looks sadly back at me.

I’ll admit, I’m wounded. Yesterday Ryan and I were fine, talking, laughing, but the moment his sexuality was somewhat questioned he got defensive and bitchy. All I really want to do is go up to him and ask him about it, but he is right about the van, because everyone is everything but comfortable or happy when two police officers jump out of the van and start to approach. Henry is suddenly at my side, tugging on my sleeve, eyes wide. “Come on Brendon, my mom would be so angry if she found out I was apart of this.” I subconsciously nod my head but the weight of Kevin’s hand on my shoulder feels a thousand times more than it should, until he lifts it and shoves me away.

“Oh yeah kids, wouldn’t want _mommy_ finding out that you were hanging out with some bad apples at school today,” he spits, shoving me again. “especially you Brendon. Go run along now, maybe the cops won’t care about two little wimps on their way off the scene.” Though there’s a mocking tone to his voice, his eyes are looking at me with such intensity that for a moment I feel like he actually cares, like his eyes are urging me to get away before the storm rolls in. 

My eyes are wide, and I would very much like to step up to Kevin, tell him to fuck off, _do something_ , but instead I just hang my head and nudge Henry’s shoulder before starting a light jog in the opposite direction of the cops, who parked near the entrance to the park, making our trip back to the school all the more longer. As we’re jogging away I faintly hear Kevin mention Ryan, and I sigh before picking up my pace. On the jog back to the school Henry doesn’t mention the whole Kevin/Me thing, and I’m glad he didn’t; it’s kind of hard to explain past mistakes that occasionally you’re doomed to repeat.

~~~

Spencer is alone and waiting for me at my locker once I get back to the school, and I’m wiping the sweat off my face. He still has a slightly concerned look on his face, and judging by the way he’s periodically glancing down the halls, I don’t think he’s actually supposed to be here. “What took you so long man?” He demands, pushing off the row of lockers. His bitchface is on, his hands are on his hips, and his one hip is cocked; I can’t help but feel very nervous, and slightly scared. “Everyone else got back, like, ten minutes ago! Most of them got in trouble due to some obscene rule about fighting in a public place or some shit like that, but they went looking for Ryan to question him. Kevin was there, apparently claiming that Ryan attacked him and that he was the victim. He’s probably trying to get Ryan thrown off the team.”

Now that he mentions it, I look around at the students lingering in the halls, and they’re all a cross between not caring, and looking sort of scared. Most of them are probably scared for other reasons, like the possibility of the officers busting them for carrying and dealing drugs. “Why did you even let Ryan go to that stupid fight? You should have assumed that something like this would happen, because it’s _Kevin_ we’re talking about.” I’m shaking my head at this point, and opening my locker to get my books for my upcoming class.

“Listen Brendon, you don’t know Ryan okay? He can handle his own, and he’ll probably talk his way out of it or something. He knew what he was doing going out to fight Kevin today. Yeah, the things Kevin said about him not liking hockey is true, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t important to him. He isn’t the kind of person who will let someone stomp all over him, especially Kevin Sanders. If he wants to go back some other time and finish the fight with him, I won’t stop him. He’s a big boy Brendon, he can take care of himself.” The bitchface has been dropped, and he’s back to having a face full of concern. “Also, don’t hold what Ryan said against him. He’s had a lot of rumours about him being gay thrown around, since like, eighth grade, and he gets kind of sensitive about it.”

“What about _me_? Did he really have to bring up shit about Kevin and I being involved? After I’ve told him I don’t want to hear about it or talk about it? Yet he did, right in front of my face. But oh no, no one cares about my feelings, because _Ryan’s_ sensitive about it. God forbid Ryan-fucking-Ross has rumours about him.” It comes out in a rush, and I regret saying it the moment after. 

Spencer’s face softens a lot, and he hangs his head a bit. “I’m not going to give you excuses as to why he said it, all I’m going to say is that it wasn’t fair of him to do that. My only guess is that it was his automatic response. He was riled up, and you just happened to be the only weapon he could use against Kevin. I may be wrong though.” 

The bell rings before Spencer has any time to say more, and I’m off to class without so much as a wave back to him. 

Ryan Ross doesn’t know how to treat his friends, and maybe that’s why he only has Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I know these chapters are kind of short, and for that I am sorry, but I'm just trying to build things up. They'll get longer as the story progresses.


	4. "Can We Meet Up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, and Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it today!

**Part One:**

_**The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably ******_

**Chapter Three:**

**“Can We Meet Up?”**

Ryan doesn’t go to school the next couple days, but I can’t really say it surprises me, not after seeing the two police officers sweep the school looking for him. I didn’t think the fight would matter that much, but as it turns out, affray is illegal in the state of Nevada. With that being said though, I think both boys would beg to differ about it being affray, since by definition, they would have had to be disturbing peace, and no one else was at the park; just a minor technicality. I don’t know what exactly Kevin had told the police, especially considering he was at fault as much as Ryan, and so he would most likely face the same punishment. But he’s a clever guy, I’ll give him that, so it wouldn’t really surprise me if he found some way to worm his way out of it, and paint Ryan as the main villain. 

It’s Wednesday, school is about to end, and Spencer has sent me multiple text messages asking to meet me once the bell rings, by the front gate. I find the idea of meeting him slightly nerve wracking, as we haven’t really talked since the fight between Ryan and Kevin, and I’m still kind of angry at Ryan. I know I don’t really have _that_ much of a reason to be angry, since Spencer could be right about Ryan just using it as a weapon, but it affected me too, and that’s something he didn’t really think about. But maybe that’s how Ryan looks at me; maybe he only sees me as this guy who Kevin has fucked, and feels bad for me. Maybe he feels obligated to be nice to me after knowing how much of an asshole Kevin can be sometimes. 

When I talked to Jon about it he told me I could be overreacting, and that there is probably a good reason as to why Spencer wants to talk to me, and he would most likely be upset with me and call me a pussy if I don’t go to meet Spencer. Maybe I am being a pussy, but Jon doesn’t know how scary Spencer Smith can be, so I don’t really think he’s in a spot to judge…I’ll just lie and tell Jon that he didn’t show up, which could be believable, since he is a busy guy.

By the time the bell rings, I have decided that I would not be meeting Spencer. All the teachers decided to hand out homework at the same time, and I’m cramming my new assignment into my binder as I wish my teacher a good evening, and leave the class, and lock eyes with Spencer down the hall. In a rush I turn around and crash into Kevin, causing him to drop his books. He takes one look at me, eyes wide and nearly shaking with nervousness, and back at Spencer, who has made a beeline for me, before giving me a small shove in the direction of my locker. “Hey Smith, come here for a second…” I hear him say as I quickly weave through the thick crowd of the hallway. I look back at them before I turn the corner, and Spencer looks agitated while Kevin looks somewhat pleased with himself. I see him look back at me, and suddenly I feel sick, my chest tightening in an odd kind of way. I break into a run, going past my locker, and out the school. I try to ignore the old silver Jetta parked by the front gate, I ignore the fact that Ryan is in it, but I can’t help but feel surprised that he would risk being seen. But then again, this is Ryan Ross we’re talking about.

~~~

I don’t go home, instead, I go to Jon’s. He’s not home, but with a quick look under the mat I have acquired the key, and I invite myself inside. I call him to see if it’s alright, and he tells me he’ll be home in about an hour once his shift is done. I drop my schoolwork on his kitchen table before dropping on to the couch. I take a deep breath, I inhale the stench of old cigarettes, I trace a beer stain on the dated couch. Another breath, I count to five. I try not to think about school; I try not to think of Kevin. The old lady next door, who Jon introduced once as Pamela, turns her television on with the volume on high. I try to focus on that, and after a few minutes I determine she’s watching Teen Mom, so I listen along to the drama as I attempt to keep my breathing in check. My phone vibrates twice in my pocket, but I ignore it. Nothing is important right now, and I drift out of consciousness, thoughts of Kevin plaguing my mind.

~~~

I wake up to soft talking behind me, and the clock on the wall saying it was 7:12pm. I groan a bit as I sit up and stretch my arms above my head, looking towards the kitchen table to see Jon sitting there with a coffee in one hand, and his phone crushed between his shoulder and his ear. He nods his head in direction of the counter when he spots me, where another coffee is sitting next to the microwave. I get up, and finally kick my shoes off near the door, before heating up the coffee and sitting with Jon at the table. “Gotta go,” he says into the phone. “Sleeping Beauty is finally awake. yeah, I’ll talk to him, thanks.” He sets the phone down and takes a large gulp of his coffee before turning his attention to me. “Have a nice nap? You were out cold when I got here.”

I wipe my hands across my tired eyes, before stifling a yawn, which causes Jon to laugh. “Rough day at school,” I tell him. “Spencer Smith wanted to talk to me. Kinda bumped into Kevin when I was running away, but he helped me out…” I trail off, abandoning my earlier decision of lying to him, and watch Jon’s face, trying to read him. He says unaffected, and just stirs his coffee. 

“Do you think he…?” He starts, but his question hangs in the air. I reply with a shrug. “Do you…?” he continues, I shrug again. I tell him that anything involving Kevin is a complete mystery to me. Jon sighs. “Well, that was Spencer on the phone. He still wants to talk to you.”

I pause for a moment. Jon on the phone with Spencer? Since when did Jon actually know know Spencer? Let alone, be good enough friends that they actually talk on the phone? “Jon, how do you know Spencer?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Believe it or not Bren, we’re actually friends. Remember that one year when I was in band? We started talking, the company was nice on bus rides to performances and while setting up. He isn’t that bad once you get past the resting bitchface.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” I ask him. Now that I think about it, it does kind of make sense. They were both in the percussion section of the band, so it was probably nice to have a friend nearby. But why didn’t he tell me? Did he assume I could get jealous?

“I dunno Bren, I didn’t really think it was a big deal, I guess? He’s just a guy, it’s not like I am secretly dating him or something. If I was, _then_ you could freak out. But anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is, you need to man up and talk to him. You don’t even know what he is going to say to you, you need to calm down.”

“Listen Jon, I don’t want to talk to him, okay? All he’s gonna say to me is more excuses about what Ryan did, and I am really not in the mood to hear that, and I won’t ever be. I get it, ‘Ryan made a mistake’, so let’s stop talking about it. I get it, you two want to help, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not like Ryan and I were friends anyway.” I was a fool to think we were.

Jon sighs, punching a text into his phone before pushing my homework across the table. “You better get going, you don’t want to worry your mom, plus you’ve got homework.” He finishes his coffee quickly, and gets up to throw the paper cup out. “I can give you a ride home if you want.” At that moment I decide to check my phone, and I see I have a couple texts from Spencer, a call from my mom, and a text from an unknown name. _”Can we meet up?”_ I know who it is, I recognize the number, and my stomach clenches, and I become nervous. I’m quick to leave, telling Jon I’ll see him later and I shove my feet into my shoes and make my way out the door, sending a reply; _”Where?”_

~~~

Parents always tell you not to walk alone at night, and Nevada is no exception. It’s nearing nine o’clock when I am finally approaching the coffee shop he and I agreed to meet at, as it was a far walk from Jon’s apartment. It isn’t too dark yet, because apparently summer in the middle of a desert still has its perks. Everything is alive, the coffee shop itself is bursting with energy, from the upbeat music on over the speakers, to the people talking animately in their seats, it’s hard to hear your own thoughts in comparison. I glance around the shop, before spotting him in the far corner, near the bathrooms. He looks slightly sad, and he pokes at the pastry that he was most likely guilted into buying. I wave at one of the baristas, Amanda, before making my way over to him, and sitting across from him. “Hey,” I say cautiously. “What’s up?”

Kevin looks up from the table to stare at me, before glancing around the shop. Though this specific shop is across the city from our school, and therefore out of the way of anyone we go to school with, he habitually needs to make sure no one knows we’re with each other. Looking at him triggers a rush of old memories to attack my mind, and I can’t help but hate him for it. We’ve been coming here together for as long as we have known each other, though it’s been awhile since our last visit. “Are you okay? Why was Smith on your ass today?” he asks me, shoving his phone into his pocket. His blonde hair is pushed out of his face, exposing his dull green eyes, and slight blooming of a bruise. His eyes show concern but his posture screams defensive and on edge. I wave Amanda over. 

“He just wanted to talk to me about Ryan Ross, but i didn’t want to. I don’t know why he was so intense about it though. Why, what is it to you?” I ask, leading back, folding my arms over my chest. “As much as I appreciate you stalling him, you didn’t need to go out of your way to get punched in the face. Not for me at least.” Amanda holds up a finger, signally that she’ll be here in a second. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and I’m sure it’s either my mom or Jon. 

Kevin forces a dry chuckle, and scratches his head. “I guess it makes up for every time I’ve hit you, huh?” He tries to joke. I flick a sugar packet across the table.

“Not really.” I say with a blank expression on my face. I almost laugh, really, because as if _one punch_ from Spencer Smith makes up for years of bruises, and several broken bones. This is why I hate Kevin; he can be a nice guy sometimes, but there are also specific instances that just completely fuck me up. Amanda finally makes her way over, and I’ve never felt so relieved. 

“Hey Bren, what can I get you today?” She asks. She seems tired, and I’m guessing she was stuck with the eight hour shift today. Eight hour shifts on their own don’t seem all that bad, but when you’re surrounded by groups upon groups of chattering people, and indecisive customers, it sort of peels away your patience and sanity. 

“Just my regular coffee,” I tell her, beginning to feel a tad upset that I didn’t have time to finish my one at Jon’s. I can just envision him sighing as he pours it down the drain, since it has too much sugar for his liking. She nods and smiles before walking away. 

Kevin screws his face up, and bites his lip. “You know I don’t mean to hurt you…” he starts, but I cut him off by finally laughing. “Oh fuck off Brendon, you don’t get it. Do you think I want to punch you? Kick you? Insult you? Do you think I enjoy it?”

He does. I know he does. It’s been years, it’s been so long. If he didn’t want to, if he didn’t like it, he could have stopped. He does this thing where he’s a completely different person around me than he is with everyone else, and it’s tiring. 

He makes it seem like he doesn't have a choice. As if someone is holding him at gunpoint, telling him "Hey, if you don't kick that kid and call him a fag right now, I'll blow your fucking brains out." 

But that isn't the case, and it never will be. He always had a choice, and he always will. I know his choice is being altered by his fear of being judged by his friends, but he still has one. Nearly every decision in your life is your choice, and he has to realize that. His actions have consequences, and this fake guilt he's feeling is one of them. 

"Brendon come on, I _know_ that face. This isn't bullshit." His tongue is quick, he has a nervous edge to his voice. He says it isn’t bullshit, but it is, and he knows it. It seems like he's trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince me. Amanda stops by, she leaves my coffee, in a to-go cup, as if she knows our meeting will be over soon, and offers a smile. The corner of my mouth twitches. "I miss you B. I really do." 

The coffee shop is quiet, I have blocked everything out. I see mouths moving but I don't hear a thing. His eyebrows are pulled together, I stare at him blankly. He said he misses me. He looks sad. I'm just noticing the redness of his eyes, and not the redness you get from being high; he's been crying, or close. I grab my coffee cup, holding it tightly. I try to breathe.

One, two, three.  
Breathe in.  
One, two, three. Breathe out.  
Repeat steps above. 

He misses me. 

Or so he says. 

And that kills me. 

Or so I say. 

I'm out of the coffee shop, leaving nothing in my wake other than a ten dollar tip for Amanda, and a speechless Kevin. 

My actions have hurt him, but I'll be the one who feels it tomorrow.

~~~

As I leave the coffee shop, and as I make my way home, I almost feel like it should be raining, like a cliché in a movie. I feel like this is my moment to be a teenage girl and preach that “the weather is displaying my feelings” like it’s some coincidence, and the viewer would laugh because _she’s so right_. Then she would go home and tell her best friend all about what happened, and her friend would laugh at the right times, and pat her shoulder during the correct moments. 

But my life isn’t a movie, and I am most definitely not a teenage girl who just had a break up, so I settle for my dry, humid night. My mom is sure to be angry with me, and maybe I’ll get lucky and she won’t let me go to the hockey game tomorrow; that way I won’t feel bad about not attending. A boy can dream, but I have a feeling I won’t be that lucky. Not this time, not when it counts.


	5. "You're Such a Model Mormon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness guys I am so sorry that this is extremely late. I have no excuse other than school has been kicking my ass. I will most likely be posting another chapter within the next couple of days.

**Part One:  
 _The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_  
Chapter Four:  
“You’re Such a Model Mormon”**

I come home to yelling. Mom, she's understanding when I lie and tell her I stopped by Jon's for help with school work, then went out for a bite to eat with a kid from our church. Both are not complete lies, as I did go to Jon's, and I did go out with Kevin, who happens to attend our church. She tells me there's extras from dinner in the fridge if I'm hungry. My dad on the other hand is not so forgiving, he never is. He yells loudly, and I'm sure our neighbours can hear faint wisps of our conversation. He screams, calling bullshit on everything I've said, and begins to tell me that I'm a piece of shit in comparison to my siblings. I try to explain, I try to go into more detail, and try to persuade him, but my efforts are futile.

I see my mom scuttling around the house behind him, as he originally stopped me at the front door, and that's where I've stayed. She sends a sad look occasionally, but doesn't actually do anything. So I stand there, and I take my dad’s shit, until I see her carry multiple beer bottles from the living room to the kitchen. 

"What the fuck are those?" I ask, gesturing towards my mom. Her eyes go wide. "Are you fucking drinking again? Mom! Mom stop, I've already seen them." I'm making a sound of disgust as I kick at the ground. The fact that he's Mormon and he drinks isn't even my problem, my problem is that he's an asshole when he's sober, but he's ten times worse when he's under the influence. He smiles cruelly at me from across the threshold, and holds his hands up in mock surrender. 

"Oops," he says sarcastically, "you caught me. Seriously Brendon, calm down. What bad is a couple beers going to do?" I nearly snort as I push him out of the way and finally enter the house. I drop my binder and grab the bottles from my mom's hands before counting them all. Four in total. I groan, because I know there would have been more coming if I had not walked in when I did. “And don’t use that language with me, that’s disrespectful, I am your _father_.”

I drop the beer bottles in the recycling bin under the sink and grab my homework off the floor. “Fine, do whatever you want _dad_ , but don’t come crying to me when someone from the church finds out, and damn you to Hell or however it goes.” My dad grabs my arm as I make my way to the stairs. 

“Because you’re such a model Mormon, right son?” He snaps at me, tightening his grip. Suddenly I’m internally freaking out, and I can’t help it as my eyes go wide and start to feel glossy. I can feel each of his fingers leaving their mark on my arm, and I try to reply but I can’t find my words. My dad is standing there, intoxicated, insulting me for the benefit of making himself better. Sure, he’s right, I am no model Mormon, but truthfully I wouldn’t even call myself a Mormon. I try to tell myself that it’s the alcohol talking, that this intoxicated man in front of me is not really my father, but my mind rejects the lie. 

“I learn from the best,” I spit, and he shoves me on to the stairs. I see my mom standing behind him, like a shadow, and I loathe her. How she can just stand there as her husband shoves their son around is _beyond,_ me. I slowly pick myself up off the stairs and cradle my now sore elbow before retreating to my room. A few hours after I hear my mom knock, and quietly open the door. When she leaves, I get out from under my blankets and see that she left a plate of food on my desk. I let it go cold. 

~~~

I contemplate skipping school. It’s a Friday, classes don’t really do much anyway, and I know when I arrive I should be expecting a beating from Kevin, and a talk from Spencer. My parents aren’t home, mom went to her friend’s house for their weekly gossip session, though she wouldn’t admit to calling it that, and dad went to work. It could be very easy to stay home, I could even call the school and pretend to be my dad and say “Oh my apologies but my son Brendon Urie won’t be in his classes today, he seems to have come down with the flu. He’ll return to classes on Monday.” and it’s not like I haven’t done it before, in fact I was notorious for doing it in ninth grade after the shit with Kevin went down. But I’m in eleventh grade now, and I hate to admit it but I need to finish school, and I need my diploma if I ever want to get out of this god-awful city, and failing my classes won’t help. In the end I pull on some jeans and a random coloured sweater before slipping my shoes on and walking to school.

~~~

School starts off strange. I’m late for my first class, English, which is taught by my least favourite teacher, but oddly he doesn’t seem to mind when I slither into the room, muttering apologies under my breath. Spencer barely looks at me in the halls, and makes no real attempt to contact me and bombard me with demands to meet him anywhere at the end of the day, for which I am grateful. I had also seen Kevin multiple times this morning, and he also has not made a move to approach me. 

Ultimately the day goes well, until the final bell rings. Waiting by my locker is none other than Kevin, and though I am relieved that he waited until now, all I really want to do is go home. So I do what any logical person would do; I run. 

Running seemed like a good idea at first, but has since proven to be useless since one, he saw me, and two, he’s an athlete, so he’s quick on his feet as he swerves through the crowd. But despite the obvious physical differences, I get all the way to the front of the school before I feel him grab my hood and pull me backwards, resulting in me falling on my back, causing several stray people around us to snicker. I see Henry close by and he sends a sad look before going about his business. I close my eyes and reduce the urge to cry from the impact. 

I am terrified. I know that towering above me is a very pissed off Kevin, but I am sort of confused as to why. Is it because I accused him of lying last night, insinuating that he didn’t care? Is it because I walked out on him? He’ll get over it, just like I have to get over the horrid things he does to me everyday. 

I open my eyes, and Kevin is not standing over me; instead, he’s crouching next to me, staring at me. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ ,” he emphasizes with a slam of his fist against my chest, “tell me that I do not mean the things I say. You, Brendon Urie,” he continues, making sure that I am aware that I am _the_ Brendon Urie, mouth close to my ear, causing me to involuntarily shiver, “do not know how I feel. You do not know my thoughts, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t-”

“Hey!” Suddenly Kevin was cut off, and both of our heads snapped in the direction of the front gate, where Ryan and Spencer are jogging over to us. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Spencer yells, and Kevin quickly pulls away and stands up. Spencer tugs me to my feet. I stare at Ryan, bewildered. 

“Ryan, what are you doing here? The police could catch you-” I start rambling as Spencer wraps a protective arm around my shoulders, seeming to shield me from Kevin, who looks irritated, yet he snorts. 

“I didn’t tell the cops anything that would make poor baby Ross over here look bad, so don’t worry. I have enough to worry about right now, and losing my spot on the hockey team plus potentially getting charged is not on my to-do list this year, sorry.” Kevin glances at Ryan when he pathetically mumbles a thank you, “I didn’t do it for you.” He sends one look back at me before walking off. 

Spencer rolls his eyes when Kevin is out of sight, and turns back to me. “Do you still need to go to your locker? Swap books? Get homework? Anything?” He asks, ticking things off on his fingers. Beside him Ryan is just standing there his his arms crossed and hip cocked like usual, though instead of his normal, stoic expression, he’s sporting a small smirk. I just stare at the pair, confused, and I hesitate before replying. 

“...why?” I ask. “Yesterday I literally ran from you, because I didn’t want to talk to you, and you assume I do now?”

Spencer looks at me like I’ve asked him the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Brendon, you said you were going to go to the game with us. The hockey game. The one that is tonight.” He says, and I silently curse to myself. I sigh and shrug as I scratch the back of my neck, giving them an odd look.

“Listen Spencer, I don’t know if this is a good night.. I’ve got some homework, and my dad is kind of mad at me, not to mention Kevin basically wants my head on a stick.” I neglect to mention the whole thing about me being pissed at Ryan, because I really do not have the energy to argue about that right now. Spencer just gives me the look again before ushering me off in the direction of my locker. 

~~~

Somehow, beyond my knowledge, Spencer roped me into coming to the godforsaken hockey game, so now we sit on the highest seats in the arena, freezing our balls off. “Don’t these things have heating?” I ask, blowing into my cupped hands. I don’t recall the last time I’ve ever been this cold, well honestly, I don’t know if I’ve _ever_ been this cold. The arena itself isn’t even close to full, with a few high school kids littering the seats and maybe a rare parent if you’re lucky. The hockey players are on the ice, from both teams, but you can tell most of them don’t even want to be there, Ryan included. It feels kind of weird, seeing him in his ‘natural element’ as I’ve heard some random students describe it. he isn’t doing much, just skating from one side of the rink to the other leisurely, but mostly leaning against the wall. 

Spencer leisurely sips on his coffee next to me. “Yeah, they do, but only near the front. You can barely feel them anyway, damn cheap bastards. Do you want some of my coffee? It won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing I guess.” I shake my head. Spencer has been doing this, sort of sucking up in a way, since we left the school, speeding down the streets to the out-of-place-arena hours early for Ryan’s practice. The game itself isn’t set to begin for another ten minutes, but that doesn’t stop the occasional member of the small crowd to shout some kind of encouragement to a player on the ice. 

Even from this distance I can still see the glares that Kevin is sending Ryan, and the way he shoves him each time they skate past each other is starting to catch the eye of their coach. “Boys! What are you doing?” Their coach yells to them, hitting his clipboard on his hand to catch their attention, “I’d like it if you two could stop fooling around, this is the first game, it’s serious business.”

“Yeah Ross,” Kevin says, skating backwards, away from him, “Stop fooling around.”

~~~

Our team wins the game, Ryan with three goals and Kevin with two. The entire time it was more of a “Ryan Ross vs. Kevin Sanders” game than our school vs. their school. Though Ryan seems to not care much about the sport, you can tell he’s happy with himself when he comes out on top this time, from the way he smiles at Kevin, to the lightness in his step as he meets up with Spencer and I an hour after the game finishes. Trust me when I say that the hour felt a lot more than that, as it was extremely boring. Honestly though, how long does it take to have a shower and get dressed? Apparently longer than I thought. 

“Nice job Ry,” Spencer says, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and shaking him a bit. “That was pretty good for the first game of the season.” Ryan smiles at him, and I feel like he means it from the way his lips stretch, revealing the slightest bit of his teeth. In response, all he does is punch Spencer's shoulder lightly. I nod my head in agreement with Spencer, not knowing enough about the sport to actually form an accurate, intelligent sounding compliment. From there the three of us start to walk to Ryan’s car, which happens to be one of the few left in the parking lot, making it easy to find. 

“What’s the plan now?” I ask, though I intend for it to be an empty question. Of course, in a perfect situation, Ryan would say something along the lines of “Now it’s time for us to take you home Brendon” and I would sigh in mock disappointment. Instead of this though, Ryan tells us that yes, just like the plan, the three of us will be hanging out. I was not expecting him to say that we were going to a party though, and when he did I felt my stomach sink. 

“Don’t worry Brendon, you’ll be alright. It’s just a party in celebration of our first win of the season. yeah, Kevin will be there, but I’m sure he won’t bother you, especially since his best friend will be there; alcohol.”


	6. "I Miss You Brendon"

**Part One:  
 _The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_  
Chapter Five:  
“I Miss You Brendon.”**

It's hard to be who you want when you pass through life like a shadow, or a legend. Not a shadow as in copying someone's movements and their actions, and not a legend like you read about in books. I mean a shadow that is barely noticed, you look at them and you never think twice, they aren't memorable. By legend I mean you're occasionally talked about, but no one really knows who you are. You're almost fake, unreal; an urban legend. Both Ryan Ross and I are, conversely, shadows and legends, depending how you look at it.

Maybe it's because I'm a teenager and according to adults I'm 'prone to rebelling' but I want more to my life than just going to school and attempting to get good marks. I want something adventurous, something intense, insane even. 

It seems like this will be my night. This party could make or break me, could fix or destroy beyond recognition the relationship Spencer, Ryan, and I have been building. I haven't attended a party since freshman year, when I went to one of Kevin's, but I assume this will be just about the same thing. There will be drinks, drugs, and dancing. Kevin used to call them the "Three Dirty D's" and I'm sure he still does; probably makes for a good laugh with the newest girl he's trying to screw. 

The party is at Nathan's house Ryan says, but that means nothing to me. All I know is that Nathan is the goalie of the team, and he's in his senior year as well. That doesn't tell me where it is or how long we're staying. When we pull up to what I assume to be his house, I honestly start to regret ever agreeing to hang out with Spencer and Ryan. 

~~~ 

It's been an hour, maybe more, and I've already lost Spencer and Ryan. I've called Jon and asked him to pick me up, but he said he's at work and won't be off until midnight. I stubbornly said alright, and ended the call before wandering into the kitchen to grab another coke. The alcohol is free and plentiful, but I've decided there's no point to drinking tonight, not if I don't spend it with my friends. I would rather embarrassingly wake up hungover with them as opposed to on Nathan's living room floor surrounded by strangers. 

In the kitchen I find Ryan, who's sipping on a bottle of beer. I can tell he's a little buzzed, but he isn't drunk yet. He smiles when he sees me. "Brendon hey!" He says, grabbing my arm. "I haven't seen you around." I shift my feet awkwardly and look down. 

"Yeah, quite the party, right?" I ask, and take a coke from the fridge. Ryan's still smiling at me, which I find a tad bit... unnerving? He seems happy, but I suppose that's the drink. He tips his bottle in my direction. 

"Want a drink?" He doesn't wait for my answer as he tears open a new box and retrieves a new bottle, forcing it into my free hand. 

"Ryan I have a drink," I say, a bit flustered, looking for a free space on the counter to put the bottle down. There's no one else in the kitchen, because it isn't necessarily the designated party space. That's what the basement and living room are for. "And I don't drink alcohol." 

He tilts his head at that, and grabs another beer. "When I first met you," he said, wrapping a hand around one of my wrists, "you told me you screwed Kevin because you were drunk. Were you lying Brendon?" Ryan begins to drag me towards the kitchen exit, soon enough the two of us are sitting on the back porch, and I am still holding both beverages. 

I hesitate. "Well, I mean..." I trail off, not knowing what to say. Ryan isn't really paying attention anymore, just drawing circles on my knee with a bony finger. 

"Sorry about the other day. The whole Kevin thing," he says suddenly, turning to look at me. His brown hair is ruffled and swept a bit into his eyes, and for some reason I have this weird urge to fix it for him. Instead I return his gaze and wait for him to continue. "Kevin just... He sets me on edge. I find him really intimidating and I was using whatever I had against him. I'm sorry that I said that about him and you, it wasn't my place. I know I've had a bit to drink, but trust me, I mean it." 

I can't help but nod. Ryan finishes his beer and opens his other one, leaving me to just stare at my full bottle. I set it down and crack open my soda can instead. The sky isn't too dark, and I'm assuming it's around nine. The party started early, and probably won't even end until the late hours of the night or early morning. The music is blaring and I wouldn't be surprised if police showed up because of a sound complaint, resulting in arrests for underage drinking. These are chances people are willing to make to have a good time, and I respect that. 

“So why did you lie to me?” Ryan asks some time later, dropping his head against my shoulder. It’s strange to see him like this; loose and seemingly carefree. He hums a quiet tune as he waits for me to respond, something I can’t name. I gently shrug my shoulders in response. “Was it to try to impress me? Because telling me you got drunk and fucked a guy a year older than you isn’t impressive. I don’t even like it when people drink, but I don’t have a problem with people being gay.”

“No, it wasn’t about impressing you,” I tell him, not even bothering to address him insinuating that I am gay. “Maybe one day when I trust you more I’ll tell you what actually happened.” I don’t tell him that I never actually intend on sharing the story, mostly because I don’t think I’ll ever trust him that much. He just hums more in response. “If you don’t like people drinking, then why do you do it?”

I feel him smile into my shoulder. “That’s the winning question isn’t it?” Ryan asks sadly, “It’s in my blood Bren. Genetics. maybe I’ll tell you more one day.”

“Fair enough,” I say quietly, wrapping a loose arm around his waist.

~~~

Next to me Ryan seems to be getting sleepy, it having been awhile since we've said anything. He's finished his other beer and is now working on mine, head still laying on my shoulder. "Hey Brendon," he says, "Brendon.. Brendon Urie. That's a weird name. You have a weird name, Brendon Urie." I roll my eyes and contemplate looking for Spencer, since Ryan should probably go home. "You're cute, did you know that? Especially with those glasses." Ryan's halfway on my lap now, his hand tracing the frame of my glasses. "They're cracked though," he pouts at me a bit, "I find that a shame." 

By this point my face has gone completely red. Ryan Ross thinks I'm cute? And he likes my glasses? Honestly I've been trying to get new ones for awhile, I just don't really see the appeal of bright red frames anymore. 

Just then the back door opens and I hear footsteps making their way over to us. "Ryan! There you are! I've been looking for you." A female voice says, and both Ryan and I look behind us to see a girl, who looks to me a bit shorter than me with shoulder length chestnut brown hair and a soft face. 

"Oh, hey Jessica." Ryan doesn't move quickly as he stands up, a bit wobbly. My eyes go wide. This is Jessica, Ryan's girlfriend? Wait, are they even dating right now? "Sorry, I was just hanging out with Brendon Urie here. You remember me talking about him right?" 

Jessica nods her head enthusiastically and holds her hand out. "You're the-" 

"Please, don't say the gay one." I request, shaking her hand. She blushes a bit before taking a step back. 

"Nice to meet you Brendon, and thanks for watching Ryan for me. He can sometimes be a handful when he's drinking, but he seems pretty calm right now," she turns to him and puts an arm around his shoulders, "Ry, I think it's time for you to go home, okay? We'll come back and get your car tomorrow. You don't want to keep your dad up waiting." Ryan nods his head, and waves at me. Jessica smiles. "See you later Brendon, have a nice night!" 

It wasn't until after they left that I realized Ryan took the keys with him when he left, and I began my painfully long wait for midnight to arrive. 

~~~ 

It's nearly eleven when I check my phone again, with no messages. Since Ryan left I moved from the back porch, into the house where I looked for Spencer and grabbed a few beers, then to the front porch when I couldn't find him. I started smoking a cigarette, picking up the addiction from Ryan, and drank the two beers I grabbed, suddenly eager to have the liquid in my body. After the first I felt sick, the taste kind of resembling what I would assume cat pee would taste like. I begin to feel nauseous and end up studying the scenery. The street lights are on, giving everything in reach a full orange glow, sort of similar to the end of the cigarette.

I was surprised to see my mom hasn't called, so maybe she doesn't care anymore. Maybe her and my dad said "Fuck it, let the kid live his own life," though I know I'm not that lucky. I send her a quick text saying I was spending the night at Jon's and not to be worried. I'll be damned if I go back home tonight smelling of smoke and beer. 

Suddenly the front door opens, and honestly, who could it be this time? Someone leaving? Someone coming to tell me I don't belong here? Neither it seems, since Kevin stumbles over to me and sits on the step. "Oh hey B, I didn't know you were here tonight." My mind's playing tricks on me. Do I hate Kevin, or do I like him? What are we? 

"Yeah..." I say, waving at him, "I've been around I guess. I don't really remember why I'm here though." 

Kevin nods along as if everything I'm saying makes sense. Though he's drunk, so it probably does. "I didn't know you smoked," he said, touching a finger to the stick in my hand. I just shrug and take another drag. "I miss you." 

I turn to look at him, and I mean really look at him. I take in his appearance; he appears disheveled, tired, and he has a longing look in his eyes. His hands are braced on his knees, as if he is ready to flee at a moment's notice. Do I miss him? My brain is fuzzy as I think about it. Who am I kidding, of course I miss him. 

"Yeah..." I trail, "I miss you too." I suppose it isn't a lie. I do miss him, I miss the guy he used to be. The guy who was sweet and caring. The guy who he actually is, shielded by a layer of cruelty. His only defences are his tongue and his fists, he has to use them, harsh situations call for harsh circumstances. But is it just the alcohol talking? Maybe I don't miss him. 

But then again, maybe I do. 

I think back to some of the good times we spent together, from days at the park, to nights on his couch. We always seemed to have a good time while in each other's presence. He used to watch me do homework and I would watch him practice football, it was just our thing. We enjoyed it too. 

Without warning Kevin is right next to me, our thighs pressing together. "What are you thinking about?" He asks, and my cheeks glow red a bit. It would be embarrassing to tell him that I was thinking about what we had, since it's the complete opposite now. When I don't reply he takes the cigarette from my fingers and crushes it into the step, putting it out. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about then.”

I sit there on the step, staring at him, waiting for him to spout something along the lines of how he hates Ryan Ross, or how well he did in the game tonight. Let’s just say I was taken aback by what he did say.

"If I'm right, then we are thinking about the same thing. The past, our past. I know I did you wrong Brendon, but there's always room for second chances. I was in a rough spot the year I met you, but I'm better now. I cared about you then, and I care about you now. I know it doesn't seem that way, but you have to trust me. I can feel it."

I had given him a second chance. All I've given Kevin is chances, time after time. I don't correct him though, and it is in this moment that I realize maybe he's right; I don't know how he feels, and I'll just have to trust him to show me. 

“I miss you Brendon, and I’m sorry for the things I have done to you at school. You deserve an honest reason as to why I have done that, but I don’t want to give you excuses. I was angry, I was upset, and that is all I can really say. I’m not saying I deserve another chance, but I am really hoping you’ll give me one.”

The silence is almost deafening as we sit on Nathan’s front steps, the sound of the party seeming like a distant memory as we begin to focus more on each other. I look at the way he’s sitting, turned to me with his hands in his lap, head slightly tilted to the side, looking at me earnestly. He’s clean shaven, from shaving this morning most likely, and looks like he’s been losing sleep. I’ll be honest, this is sudden. I was never expecting to get back with Kevin, especially not due to _him_ coming to _me_. 

But what about Ryan? What even happened between us? I mean, it was probably nothing, because there are a plethora of reasons to justify his actions tonight, and why it meant nothing, such as his obscenely large alcohol intake, the chance that he isn’t gay, and like a cherry on top, his girlfriend interrupting us. Girlfriend, or friend, Jessica is always in the picture and based on what I have heard about them, she seems like a permanent fixture. Would I even want there to be something between Ryan and I? Short answer is no. 

“I guess we can try Kevin,” I whisper, because what can I say? I happen to be the king of second chances, the king of ‘what ifs’. What if it goes better this time around? We’re older now, more experienced, more knowledgeable. 

Kevin leans in, kisses me softly, and I stop denying that I am gay. I never was straight, I suppose, I just liked to tell people I was. It was a lot easier that way, though I guess it never seemed to do me any good anyway.


	7. "Legends Never Die."

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Seven**

**"Legends Never Die."**

My head is pounding when I wake up, and I immediately regret drinking last night. There’s sunlight pouring through the crack between the curtains, illuminating the room. I pull my phone out of my pocket and read that it’s nearly noon, and I have multiple messages from Spencer, Ryan, and Jon, which I ignore. In favour I sit up in the bed, and glance at the sleeping figure next to me with a sigh.

After climbing out of the bed I pull on my clothes that were heaped on the floor, and quietly leave the room. The kitchen looks like it hasn't been cleaned recently, which doesn't surprise me too much. I begin my attempt at making coffee, and as I wait for it, I pull my phone out again. 

The message from Jon is just him telling me that he's on his way, then there's a couple from Spencer apologizing for getting lost last night. The few from Ryan are also him apologizing, and the last text he sent me was from five am, telling me he had a good time. The corner of my mouth twitches as I type in a quick reply, telling him that I did too. I'm suddenly thankful that it is a four day weekend.

When the coffee's done I pull two mugs out of the cupboard, nearly dropping one. I prepare both coffees and sit at the kitchen table with them. "Is one of those for me?" I turn my head and see Jon scratching his arm as he walks out of the bedroom. Last night when he finished work he made me walk down the street to find out what intersection he had to come get me at, leaving Kevin to finish up at the party alone. Chances are he's still there, but I'm willing to bet he's still sleeping. 

I give Jon a sad look. "Well they were actually both for me, but I guess you can have one." I joke, sliding one across the table. 

Jon groans as he takes a seat, greedily pulling the cup closer to him. "Do you want to tell me what happened last night? I didn't know you were one for drinking." 

I hesitate. Do I actually want to tell Jon what happened? Do I want to tell him about Ryan, and about Kevin? Jon never was a fan of Kevin. In the end I say screw it and tell him everything I can recount. 

"I don't know about this Brendon... Are you even sure about this? Is this what you want? Both of you were drunk yesterday, you probably weren't in your right mind. And remember last time, he-" 

I hold my hand up and hang my head low. "Jon, I know what he did. I'm not going to say it's okay, because it isn't, but I think that he's changed. You haven't seem him recently, he seems nice for once. It could be different this time." I nearly sound like I'm begging, pleading for Jon to believe me. I sound like I'm trying to convince myself more than him. After everything Kevin and I have been though, I have no reason to believe him, I have no reason to trust him, but it doesn't mean a small part of me isn't desperate to. 

Jon must recognize my torn look because he gives me a sympathetic look. "Just... Be careful, okay Brendon? If he pulls any shit from last time, I will kick his ass." It is not an empty threat, Jon has done it once and he will do it again. The God Squad doesn't scare him. We sit in silence for a few minutes as we finish up our morning coffees, and Jon is rinsing our cups in the sink when he speaks again. "What are you going to do about the Ryan thing?" 

I'm puzzled. "What Ryan thing?" 

"Y'know, him calling you cute, that stuff. From what you told me, it kind of sounds like he likes you." 

I snort. "Jon he was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing or saying, plus his girlfriend came and got him, remember?" He shrugs, seeming unconvinced. 

"As a man who drinks a lot in his spare time, and used to read up on it a lot, I can tell you that it may not have mattered whether he was drinking or not. Alcohol doesn't spontaneously give you newfound feelings for someone, not unless they were already there on some level. All it does is enhance those feelings, and occasionally make you act on them. I'm not saying Ross likes you for sure, or that he's into guys in any way, I'm just saying they're both possibilities."

I bite my lip. There's no way Ryan Ross could like me, is there? He only met me recently, and he barely knows anything about me. Perhaps he finds me attractive? No, what's appealing about a boy who trips over his feet and has dorky red glasses? Nothing.

_"You're cute, did you know that? Especially with those glasses."_

"How do you feel about him?" Jon asks, and I suppose that's the million dollar question. How do I feel about Ryan Ross? I'm not quite sure. 

~~~ 

_We're making out. One hand is on my thigh and the other is in my hair, he's being gentle this time and I am thankful. He told me he cares and for the sake of this relationship I have to believe him. He has to show me that this is worth it, that he's worth it. He tells me I'm beautiful, but I would look better without my glasses. A little voice at the back of my mind says that if I take them off he'll look better, just a blur and not the monster I've grown to know._

_My phone goes off, it's 12:04 and it's Jon. "Hey Jon," I draw out, slowly forming the words. "What's up?"_

_"You never told me where you were, so I can come get you. Unless you've found a ride home?" He asks, I can distantly hear his car running, the radio playing quietly. I look over at Kevin, who is slumped against the wall, staring at me through half lidded eyes._

_"Yeah, I still need a ride," I hesitate. "I don't know the address of the house I'm at though. I can jog down to the street corner though and look."_

_I begin to walk down the path to the sidewalk, before glancing at Kevin. "Wanna walk me to the corner?" I ask. He slowly shakes his head._

_"Who was that?" Jon asks._

_"I'll tell you later. Do you mind if I stay the night?"_

~~~

 

Tuesday rolls around, and math is nearing. So far I have not seen Kevin around, and it seems like the rest of the God Squad has taken interest in Henry, the poor guy. I got them to stop once, but both he and I know that I will not always be there. I haven’t talked to Kevin since the night of the party, which gives me the assumption that he doesn’t actually want anything from this. I’m not completely sure whether that’s a bad or good thing. I haven’t talked to Ryan either, not since replying to his text on Saturday morning. Not that we need to talk… right? I haven’t seen him around today either, but I’ve seen Jessica, who seemed more than thrilled to approach me to say hi, and to tell me she got Ryan home alright. 

“I don’t really like him going to those parties, it kind of scares me, you know what I mean?” Jessica had asked. I nodded my head, because of course I knew. Jessica seemed like a sweet girl, very supportive, not so deserving of bad news. I wonder how she originally felt when she first heard that her boyfriend was hanging out with the rumoured gay boy. “He made up for it though, he always does. He’s the greatest, I swear he is.”

Am I nervous to see him in class? He usually isn’t one to skip, not in the time that I have known him. I’m sure he probably has his coach keeping a close eye on his schedule. But why would I be nervous to see him? As I’ve repeated many times before, nothing happened between us. 

But if that’s true, then why do I feel like something did? Why do I feel my insides twist, in a good way, a way Kevin never has made me feel? With Kevin everything was all contact, all hands and tongues, _rough_. It was never love, it was all lust. but what is it with Ryan? Two friends who care about each other? Or is it something more? He did say I was cute-

I slam my head against my locker after I close it, a groan forming in my throat. Am I actually insane? Why am I comparing my relationship -or lack of thereof- with Ryan to my relationship with Kevin? These are two completely different situations, two polar opposites. I don’t even like Ryan. I slam my head on my locker again. 

“Woah there, watch out, you might give yourself a concussion or something,” I turn my head sharply to the left, to see Ryan with a shy smile on his face. My features soften a bit, and I return the small smile. “How was the rest of your weekend? Sorry I kind of stranded you there, at the party.” 

I shrug my shoulders lightly. “Weekend was boring, filled with abandoned chores, which will probably catch up with me when I get home. And don’t worry, it’s alright. Jessica seems sweet, it was nice of her to take you home. I didn’t know you two were dating again.” I easily leave out the parts about me staring at my phone the entire weekend, hoping either him or Kevin would text me; both of which did not.

Ryan looks down awkwardly, and harshly rubs the back of his neck. “We, uh, aren’t dating. Not anymore. But I think after last night she’ll think so… I kind of..” he shakes his head. “God, I feel like shit about this. I may havesleptwithherthatnight?” he blurts out. He takes a look at my confused face before continuing. “I mean.. It wasn’t our first time, and she initiated it. But like… I wasn’t sober, I had no idea what I was doing. I don’t want to get back together with her, that was a mistake.”

I choose not to harshly judge Ryan, because I know all about the poor judgement and mistakes that come from alcohol. “Why did you ask her to take to home then? She came there specifically to get you, right?”

Ryan smiles sheepishly. “Who else was going to be the designated driver?” He asks, and I raise my eyebrow. “Oh come on Bren, you can’t tell me you stayed sober after I left.” My cheeks flare a bright red, and the warning bell rings suddenly. 

“How about we skip math today?” Ryan asks, and I try not to give him an alarmed look, but I don’t fully succeed. “What? have you never skipped before?” I have, kind of. Most of the time I would arrive at class, then come up with an obscene excuse as to why I need to leave, and call Jon or Cassie and pretend they’re my parents. The difference between those times and this one is that I don’t think he plans on going to class first. 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to skip? It could get you kicked off the hockey team.” I’m not going to say that hockey is all Ryan has going for him, no, I’m sure he has an abundance of things he is good at that can put him through college, and math most likely is not one of them. All I am saying is that extracurriculars look good on college and job applications. 

Ryan gives me a smirk, one that tells me he is up to no good. “I don’t really care about that, not right now. I need a break.” He says, pushing my books back into my locker and slamming it closed. 

“You just had the weekend,” I point out, shuffling along next to Ryan as we exit the school. “And you've already failed math once.” In the corner of my vision I see Ryan roll his eyes and I sigh. “Where are we going?” 

We reach his car by the time the bell rings, signaling the start of the period. “I really need a smoke, and I'm hungry. So how about we make this a double lunch period? We can go to McDonalds or whatever. You choose. Do you want one?” He asks, holding his cigarette box out to me. I take one without a second thought, and stare at it, rolling it in my fingers, as I decide where to go. Ultimately I decide on Subway, and the two of us get in the car. 

“So how was the rest of the party?” Ryan asks. “I'm sure it was probably boring without me.” He jokes. I instantly panic. Do I tell him about Kevin? Or do I keep it a secret? Does he already know what happened? No… how could he? I glance over at him, and everything about his posture screams casual, from the way he's loosely holding the steering wheel to the way he's fiddling with the radio. I trust him, don't I? 

My brain says yes but my mouth says no. “I had a couple beers, sat on the front porch waiting for Jon to pick me up. Couldn't find Spencer anywhere.” 

Ryan looks awkward and his cheeks tinge light pink. “Sorry for leaving you, I drank too much too early. And yeah, I guess Spencer would've been hard to find, he’s always tucked away somewhere. Always has good stories afterwards.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “ Jon? As in Jon Walker? He’s a good guy, shame he isn't around anymore. I didn't know you knew him.” I'd like to say that's an _understatement_. 

“Oh yeah… Jon has basically dragged me through high school so far. We met when I was in eighth grade. He was working at some shitty thrift shop at the time and he took me to the hospital when I slipped near a ‘wet floor’ sign and broke my arm. Sat with me in the waiting room, been friends ever since.” Ryan and I arrive at Subway, make our orders, and take a seat in a booth near the back. “How do you know Jon?” I ask, which is sort of a stupid question, since nearly everyone knows Jon. I know that Jon and Ryan have hung out plenty of times, but Jon never thought it was important for me to know how they met. 

Ryan sighs and laces his hands behind his neck as he leans back. “The same year as you I guess, since I was in ninth grade. It was near the end of the year, and I went to one of his parties. I was so happy the school year was over that I started to drink heavily, and all I remember is him stopping me and carrying me to the basement, laying me on my side on the floor. I remember waking up a couple times to him sitting on the floor nearby playing on a Gameboy or something, he kept checking on me. I ended up vomiting on the carpet, and I’m sure his parents were pissed, but the outcome was a lot better than it could have been. I could have choked on the vomit and died, or I could have wound up in the hospital. I was in pretty rough shape in ninth grade, due to stress and pressure to fit in. I went into high school a shy, weird boy. What am I coming out as? A heavy smoker and close to an alcoholic.” His last sentence is spoken soft, and it hits me like bricks. I never thought that Ryan Ross could ever be like me, but apparently he was, back in the day; back when he first entered high school.

“Sure, you drink and you smoke, who doesn’t? What sets you apart from the others is that you’re a _legend_ Ry. You have kids from every grade looking up to you, wanting to be like you one day. There’s a lot more to you than you’re giving yourself credit for. You’re a legend, which is far better than floating through high school like a shadow. Shadows are forgotten, but we both know legends never die.”

“You’re a good guy, you know that Brendon? Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure Jon did mention you a couple times. You were never one to follow the crowd, it seems. You always stayed to yourself. That’s good, you’ll go far.” He pats one of my hands that are sitting on the table, and I’m starting to think that maybe I can trust Ryan more than I originally thought.

Just then my phone vibrates from where it’s placed on the table, and then again. Ryan goes to pass it to me, and glances at the screen before stopping harshly. “Why is Kevin texting you? And why does he seem concerned about where you are?” Ryan looks up at me with a concerned look on his face. “I thought he hated you?”


	8. "I Was Concerned"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Seven:**

**“I Was Concerned.”**

My heart is racing, and Ryan is giving me a concerned look. He repeats his original question. “Why is Kevin texting you?” Hearing it a second time doesn't put my brain into motion, I am still frozen. He slams his hand on the table, catching the attention of the man working at the counter. Ryan smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “There was a fly,” he states innocently before turning back to me.

I'm still hesitating. “It's kind of a long story,” I tell him, really it is. The story dates back to about the beginning of ninth grade, and I am not ready to go back there just yet. “But in short and most recently… we were hanging out at the party together. After you left.” It feels like there's tar in my lungs, making it harder to breathe. It's as if the words are physical things I need to choke up to get out. The look he's giving me is no help, he looks like I've betrayed him. Maybe I have, it isn't necessarily comforting to know your friend is hanging out with someone who you hate, and who you thought your friend also hated. He doesn't understand though, and I'm not sure he ever will. 

“You hung out with him?” Ryan asks, slowly pronouncing each word, as if he's still trying to get the words to reach his brain. “Like… hungout as in talking or fucking-”

“Talking!” I nearly yell, exasperated. “We were just talking.” I lean my head back against the cool plastic of the booth seat. “I would never have sex and with him. Never did, never will.” I'm speaking softly now, memories of freshman year flooding my brain. 

“I thought you've already had sex with him?” Ryan asks quietly. He doesn't seem mad anymore, he just seems like we wants to understand the situation he’s been opened up to. Do I tell him everything I have to say about Kevin? Or do I keep it locked away until a later date? 

“We didn't have sex at that Halloween party,” I speak slowly, choosing my words carefully. I've decided that I don't want to lie to him anymore. “I know it looked like we did, but we didn't. But I did blow him that one time that you mentioned.” My hands are straight out in front of me on the table, stroking the surface gently as our subs and my phone sit long forgotten on the side. The tapping of my fingers somewhat hides the shake of my hands, but there's nothing to mask my slightly ragged breathing. Ryan looks cautious to continue. 

“Was that the only time?” 

“No.” I can anticipate the next question. I can see it forming in his mouth before he even says it. But even then, I'm still not prepared. 

“Did he ever do things to you that you didn't want?” 

I hesitate, which was a complete mistake. My mind goes against me, flooding my head with images of him, the things he has said to me. Memories from the one night when-  
I take a deep breath and throw my head in my hands. My breathing is constricted, the tar is back. I finally choke out a dry sob, and he knows the answer. He quickly slides out of his booth and into mine, fitting himself next to me, wrapping his arms around my body. Another sob rips through me and I can't hold back the the tears. So many memories, good and bad, assault me, and it’s too much to handle. “Shh…” Ryan mutters, pressing his face near my ear. “It's okay Brendon… he can't hurt you anymore. I'll beat him up okay? You didn't deserve that.” The man at the counter looks over at us again, a concerned look on his face. He trots over and places a few extra napkins on the table. 

“You don't understand,” _he cared about me. He just didn't show it that well._ My mind is racing with all the words I want to say but can't force my mouth to form. Ryan continues to hug me, whispering apologies into my ear. 

“I can't understand if you don't tell me the story. You don't have to tell me right now though, I understand that this probably isn't the easiest thing to talk about. I'm here when you want to talk, okay?” We both know that he already knows what happened. He's smart enough to piece the puzzle together. He leans away from me and gives me a reassuring smile.

I use my sleeve to wipe my eyes, and use a napkin to wipe my nose. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I croak, sounding more and more pathetic as this conversation goes on. Ryan’s smile falters, and his mouth twists, a confused look finding its way to his face.

“I may have only met you two weeks ago Bren, but in those two weeks you’ve shown me that if anyone deserves someone to be nice to them, it’s you. So much shit has happened to you, and I don’t even know everything. Yet you go to school, walk the hallways, and you manage to give off the vibe that you don’t have a care in the world. I can tell that what Kevin does bothers you, that’s obvious, and yet you try to cover it up. You’re so strong Brendon. You deserve someone who's nice to you.” He’s gripping one of my biceps now, staring directly into my eyes. He is making sure I hear him and I understand. I nod slowly, and I mouth the words ‘thank you’ unable to actually voice them on my own.

~~~

Ryan is gathering up the garbage at our table when my phone goes off again, and then his right after. I glance at mine, guiltily hoping it wasn’t Kevin texting me, but instead I see it’s Spencer, asking where we are. Ryan rolls his eyes and goes to throw the trash away. While he’s gone I call Spencer. “Where are you?” he asks when he picks up, and I chuckle slightly. “Are you with Ryan? You better be with him because I swear to god-”

“Fuck, Spencer hold up a second. I’m with Ryan, we went to get lunch.” I’m smiling slightly as I turn my attention to where Ryan is, struggling to empty our tray into the trash bin, without getting any on the ground. 

“Wait, you’re telling me that you and Ryan went to get lunch? Instead of going to math? _When lunch is the period right after_? You guys have horrible time management and I’m glad I wasn’t apart of your grand scheme, because if I was, you two wouldn’t know that- you know what? No, you don’t get to know. Not until you come pick me up, because I look kind of lame standing here by my locker all alone,” Spencer says, and I can hear him slamming his locker in the background. “Tell Ryan he needs to pick me up, because I’m sure he’d like to hear this. Also, I call shotgun.”

“You can’t have shotgun if _I’m already sitting there_.” I say.

~~~

As it turns out, yes, Spencer can have shotgun if I’m already sitting there, and he achieves this by bitching at Ryan to unlock the car before throwing my door open and forcibly undoing my seatbelt and tickling me until I surrender. 

“No! Stop!” I yell, attempting to bat his hands away. “Fine! You can have the front seat!” Spencer removes his hands, and in favour crosses his arms, giving me a smug look as I climb through the middle of the front seats into the back, rubbing my side. “You tickle like a bitch. Your fingers are like talons. Fucking _talons_ Spencer Smith.” 

Spencer shrugs as he fastens his seatbelt. “Y’know, the girls always say they like my fingers,” he cheekily grins as he holds two fingers up, wiggling them. Ryan swerves as he exits the parking lot. 

“No! No no no, do not say that. That’s gross Spencer, Jesus CHRIST. Fuck, I love you and all but please just keep that to yourself.” Ryan yells, attempting to straighten his course. His face is bright red, and I notice him glance in his mirror at me. Next to him Spencer just about loses his shit, nearly smacking his hand on the dashboard to ease his laughter. I lean back in my seat and give a small smile as I see Ryan crack, and roll his eyes. “Whatever. Just keep those talon-like, lady-pleasing fingers away from me then, please.”

“Hey Spencer,” I pipe up. “Didn’t you have something to tell us?” 

Spencer looks thrilled that I brought it up, and takes a big breath before starting his story. “Okay, well in the middle of the period a random assembly was called so my class, a grade nine art class, and what seemed to be your math class were assigned to the bleachers on the right side of the gym. Kevin was there, and he was looking all uncomfortable and he kept glancing around, it was kind of suspicious, but I didn’t think anything of it. That is, until some grade nine kid, I think it was the Steven kid from the hockey team, called up to Kevin. He said, ‘Hey Kevin, are you waiting for your boyfriend to show up?’ and obviously he looked mortified. There’s no other way to explain it. Now I’m not gonna lie Brendon, at first I thought he was talking about you, but then Kevin asked him what he meant, and he continued and said ‘I saw you making out with some kid at Nathan’s party, then he left you all alone. You looked pretty upset.’ By this point Kevin looked like he wanted to rip Steven’s head off, but refrained, and just sat back, objecting.”

I feel my whole body freeze. It never occurred to me that people may have seen us, it wasn’t like we were hiding or anything. We were out on the front porch, we were in the open. In front of me Ryan snorts as he pulls into a McDonald’s drive thru. “You know you can’t believe that shit, Spence. For years people have been trying to accuse Kevin of being gay, they do it to everyone. Half the time they’re wrong.” Ryan shifts his gaze to me in the rearview mirror, and I trust he won’t bring me into this. Spencer quickly orders his lunch before continuing. 

“No, yeah, I get that, and that’s what I thought, until one of his cronies, hell if I know his name, fucking agreed with Steven, and said he saw it too. The dude looked terrified when he realized what he said. At that point Kevin’s facial expressions were giving him away, because he also looked scared as hell, and rushed out of there as fast as he could. That seems kind of strange, doesn’t it?”

“I mean... I guess? He was probably drunk. I wonder who it was though.” Ryan says. 

I snap out of my trance long enough to form a response. “It was probably some stupid grade nine. You know how he is.” Ryan looks at me through his rearview mirror again, and instead of suspiciously looking away, I shrug. “We probably won't ever find out.” 

Spencer nods as Ryan passes his food over to him. “Yeah, you're probably right. It seems like he only dates freshmen, which is weird. Not to say they're dating or anything. You're most likely right about the probability of us finding out who it is too. So many people were at that party, even kids from the other team I'm sure. It honestly could have been anyone, also taking into consideration the amount of alcohol Nathan had at that party.” He pauses as he unwraps his burger, a thoughtful look on his face. “I wonder if anyone got photos.” 

Ryan smacks Spencer in the arm before returning his attention to the road. “Spencer I don't see why you care so much, it happens at almost every party. Kevin is such a player. I wouldn't be surprised if-” 

“Funny you bring that up Ryan!” Spencer interrupts. “I heard you slept with Jessica and you didn’t even tell me. Are you guys getting back together?” Honestly I swear Spencer is like king of gossip, and he totally puts all the cheerleaders to shame. He’s so involved in various social groups and clubs that he's accessible to everything, and he takes advantage of that. Sometimes I wonder if anyone has said anything about me.

The car swerves a little, Ryan seeming to be taken aback by the direction this conversation has taken. “It was a mistake. I was drunk, I called her and asked her to take me home. I didn't expect it to happen.” I lean back and tune most of the conversation out, having heard the story already. I can't imagine how devastated Jessica will be once she finds out, and I hope I won't be there for it. 

“Besides,” Spencer says, a little more hurriedly, drawing my attention. “I thought you liked-” he sends a panicked look at me in the rearview mirror before closing his mouth. “Never mind.” 

~~~

Jon is unable to pick me up from school so I end up walking home, adding another twenty minutes onto my usual time; it gives me time to think, but I don’t really want to. Parked outside my house is a blue mustang, with Kevin leaning against the hood, arms crossed and sunglasses perched on his nose. “What took you so long?” He asks, glancing over me. I stop a few metres away, my hands shoved in my hoodie pockets. 

“Not everyone has a car,” I point out, rather harshly. “Not everyone can drive.” 

I can tell he's rolling his eyes behind his expensive frames. “I could've drove you home.” 

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh sure, I'm sure that'll go over with everyone quite well. One day you're beating me up, then you're driving me home willingly. I'm sure those will also go great with your gay rumours going around. Why would you even drive me home, you aren't my boyfriend, are you?” I ask, slightly defensive. 

Kevin laughs, taking his sunglasses off. “God no, that's kind of gay.” Newsflash Kevin, making out with a guy, exchanging blowjobs occasionally, and expressing your feelings for a guy _is_ kind of gay. The title of the relationship doesn't do much. “You didn't think we were, did you?” 

“No. Listen Kevin, why are you here?” 

“Where were you during math?” He asks. I give him the general idea; I was getting lunch with Ryan. “You ditched class to eat lunch with Ross? Why would you even do that? I hate that guy.”

I take a step back and put on a defensive front. “He’s my friend. We were hungry. Honestly I don't give a shit whether you like him or not, because you make it out to seem like you hate me, yet the moment you're intoxicated you're quick to shove your tongue down my throat. He’s done one bad thing to me. Shall I list what you've done?” 

Kevin sighs, and puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Jesus Christ B, what's gotten into you? You weren't like this before. So what, I made mistakes, we all do. I wanted to know where you were and who you were with because I was concerned.” 

“You're not my boyfriend, so stop monitoring me like you are. I'm not a clueless freshman anymore. Just… just leave me alone right now, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.” With that, I rush past him and into the house, locking the door behind me. 

I know I was unreasonably harsh with him, but someone has to be.


	9. "I Kind Of Like A Guy Too."

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes And Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Eight:**

**“I Kind Of Like A Guy Too.”**

The weeks went by quickly and before I knew it, October is upon us. September has flown by in a flurry of encounters with Kevin, sitting in the stands of hockey arenas with Spencer, and late night fast food runs with Ryan. My parents have grown to accept that I’m not alway going to be home, my mother just happy I was making new friends. _Friends_. It seems slightly strange, yet gratifying when I can say that I have friends, plural. She often wonders why I never bring them home, but it’s mainly due to my dad sending me disgusted looks whenever he sees me. In his eyes, my friends are not the ‘right kind of people’, and I’m sure he would prefer to know I hang out with Kevin, since his family attends our church. Jon snorted when I mentioned it to him.

Things with Kevin have been going… alright I guess. Better than I expected, but it’s Kevin, so I wasn’t expecting much. It’s a horrible relationship, though he’d kill me if he heard me refer to it as that, since he still occasionally beats me in school. In the later hours of the day when we’re alone somewhere he’ll kiss me and tell me he didn’t mean it, and I don’t know the truths from the lies anymore. I’m sure that by this point people may be starting to draw a connection, since as luck would have it, someone _did_ get a photo of him making out with the ‘stranger’, and though my face was blocked in the shot, the red hoodie I was wearing is clearly visible. Sure, it’s a stretch to assume it’s me, but with our past, people aren’t too against the idea. Ryan hasn’t brought it up, but I know he’s been wanting to. I know he must be worried about me, and considering how close we’ve gotten I wouldn’t be surprised if he did end up hitting Kevin. 

Speaking of Kevin, I can see him at the end of the hallway I’m currently walking in, and he looks nowhere near happy. In the back of my mind I assure myself that the reason why he looks irritated could be due to the fact that it is the morning, and no one likes mornings. Seems like a pretty legitimate explanation if you ask me. Except I’m wrong, and I can tell because his eyes are trained on me, and people nearly jump out of his way as he plows down the hallway. 

I close my eyes as he slams me into the closest set of lockers, wincing slightly as my back connects with the metal. ‘Alright’ may not have been the best word to use, but it’s a hell of a lot more accurate than ‘good’ or ‘great’. He doesn’t look me in the eye much at school, though I don’t really expect him to. It must be hard to look the person you ‘care’ about in the face as you litter their body with bruises, as people you go to school with look on from a distance. He keeps our visits in the hallways quick, or rather quicker than before, and for that I am grateful. 

My cheek suddenly feels hot as his palm makes contact with it, and then I notice Kevin’s hot breath against my ear. “Meet me in the boy’s locker room at lunch,” he whispers before pulling away, and shoving me back into the lockers. He smelt strongly of alcohol, and I give him a disbelieving look. It’s literally eight in the morning on a Thursday. He smirks before walking away. “See ya later, you fag!” He yells as he walks off, for added measure. People throw concerned looks my way but I just shrug them off before going to my class.

~~~

Sneaking around with Kevin has, during the past month, proven to be difficult due to me now being friends with Spencer and Ryan. It was different when I was in ninth grade, Jon was my only friend and he knew that I was seeing Kevin. Now, I have the two guys, who honestly are the last people I would ever like to find out about With all this being said, I am not surprised, but instead worried, when Ryan runs into me at the beginning of my lunch, and asks me if he, Spencer, and I are hanging out on the roof. It’s the first time in awhile that we’re able to, since all of our schedules are cleared up.

“Oh shit.. Nah, I can’t today…” I say pathetically, rubbing the back of my neck. “My mom wants to take me to pick out a new pair of glasses, to replace these ones. She’s busy later so she said lunch would be a good time.” I lie, tapping my red frames. “Maybe tomorrow?”

Ryan frowns slightly. “I’ve always liked your red glasses, it’s going to be weird seeing you with different ones.” He pouts slightly, and I feel something inside my chest tug. I hate to lie to him, but what else am I to do?

“I feel the same… I’ve had these for so long, y’know? But hey, don’t worry, there’s a chance I won’t even find a pair that I like. I can be kind of picky, since I’ll be wearing them all the time.” I smile at him crookedly, giving a small shrug, and lightly punch his arm. He smiles back at me before shoving me gently away.

“Go on then, replace your ruby specs.” he jokes. “And yeah, maybe we can eat together tomorrow. It’s not the end of the world, right?” My glasses still may be cracked, and it’s a bit hard to see, but I’m almost entirely certain that there’s a bit of sadness in his eyes. I didn’t upset him that much, did I? I don’t know, like he said, it isn’t the end of the world…

~~~

The boy’s locker room doesn’t exactly scream at me with good memories, quite the opposite in fact, but all that is forgotten when I’m shoved against the wall, Kevin’s hands grasping my arms, mumbling “I’ve missed you” into my lips. I do not return the statement, and instead my lips continue to move with his.

He doesn’t miss me, or so I tell myself. He misses the feeling of someone assuming they need him. 

Once upon a time I did tell myself I needed him, in ninth grade all I told myself was that he was the best thing that happened to me. I came to school just to see him, not for my classes. There was just something exhilarating about dating a guy who was a year older. Well, I suppose ‘dating’ isn’t an accurate word, no, I guess we were just two guys seeing each other in the shadows of parties and empty school halls. It wasn’t just that I told myself I needed him, he told me I did. I was young and completely stupid, so obviously I believed him. Sure we were only together around five months, but in that time people told me I changed. And they were right, I did. I once lived for myself, but in those months, I lived for him; to please him. 

I went on pleasing him until there was just something I couldn’t give, but he took anyway. 

Is he any different than he was? He says he is, and I would like to think so, but is this what I deserve? Sure, I’m a closeted gay kid, but wouldn’t coming out be easier if I had someone to do it with? That is where I’m sure the answer would be yes, he is still the same, because Kevin is one of the most homophobic guys I’ve ever met, even though he’s fucking a guy. It’s all about his reputation, what will make him look good, and what will make him look bad. Would he come out for me, if it made me happy? No… and that is not because he isn’t ready, it’s because he isn’t willing to admit it. I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t matter who he’s with, what matters is whether he gets off or not. I’ve seen him with countless girls, hot and heavy in living room corners during parties, up against lockers in school, but I never see the same girl twice. He isn’t one for relationships, which begs me to ask, why is he still with me? Why didn’t he get rid of me yet?

“Brendon,” he breaths, hands quickly moving to his zipper, lips detaching from mine. “Brendon help me out here.” He’s grabbing my hands now, bringing them back to his zipper, fumbling, trying to make my fingers move the way he wants.

Should have I expected this when he asked to meet me? A meetup to get off and get out, go back to our day with our friends. Sure, the suggestion seemed alright at first, but after blowing Ryan off I feel horrible, and in no way wanting for something intimate to happen with someone. Talk about a mood killer.

I lean back into the wall. “I need to fix my glasses,” I say as an excuse, and straighten the frames on my face. Kevin takes a step back, gives me a scrutinizing look, and touches a finger to my glasses. 

“Why do you even wear these?” he asks. “They make you look like you’re twelve.” Before I even have a chance to respond or do anything to stop him, Kevin is pulling them off my face and throwing them on the ground, stomping on them a few times for added measure. 

I stand there, utterly speechless, and look at the blurred mess on the ground. “Kevin, what the fuck?” I demand, falling to my knees and attempting to pick up the broken pieces. “Now I can’t fucking see.” 

Kevin grabs me by my shoulders and tugs me to my feet. “No, don’t worry about them. Here, I can show you where my dick is, it’s-”

“I don’t want to do this Kevin!” I nearly yell, exasperated. “I don’t give a shit about your dick right now, okay?” I yank myself away from him, a disgusted look on my face. Just then my phone rings in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out, while smacking Kevin’s hand away. “Hello?” I ask, ignoring the caller ID.

“Brendon hey, I was wondering-” Ryan starts, but I cut him off. 

“Please come get me,” I nearly beg, and Kevin goes to grab me. “Kevin fuck off!” 

“Kevin?” Ryan asks, sounding concerned. “Where are you?” 

“I’m in the locker room. Seriously Kevin stop!” I shove him harshly and I hear the line go dead.

~~~

Ryan called my mom after getting me. He talked to her for a bit, explained that there was an incident at school, and I needed new glasses. She said she’d try her best to pick out a pair I liked, and asked when I was coming home. We didn’t give her an answer. 

Ryan and I are sitting on the roof of his car, in the parking lot of an abandoned mall on the outskirts of the city. He hasn’t said much, hasn’t asked me for specific details. He found me in the locker room with Kevin, decked him, grabbed me, and brought me to his car. We stopped by my house very briefly to get my old pair of glasses from a few years ago, plain black, and a bit small. I know he wants to talk about it, he must be wondering why I was in the locker room with Kevin when I specifically told him I was going to be with my mom. Everything caught up with me too soon. 

It’s getting later now, the sky turning from blue to more warmer tones, streaks of orange stretching across the sky. I suppose it would be the beginning of a nice night, with stars and everything, not that you would be able to see them from Vegas. Ryan’s humming a tune under his breath, hands laced behind his head, and feet swinging over the edge of the car. “I’ve been seeing Kevin again,” I tell him, and he hums in response. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“And why was that?” He asks casually, not bothered by the topic at all. “Afraid I’d shun you because you’re gay? Because you’re seeing a jackass?” The words just ease out of his mouth, smooth and quick, with a sharp tone. 

I feel unsettled as I sit up on the hood, looking back at his strewn out form. “A bit of both I suppose,” I admit, voice a tad shaky. Previous discussions with Ryan led me to believe that he would be okay with me being gay, completely accepting even, but on TV they always show that happening before the poor kidis stabbed in the back. I don’t want to be that kid. Next to me Ryan pulls a cigarette out of his pack, and leans forward to offer me one, which I decline. he leans backwards with a sigh. 

“I don’t care that you’re gay. In fact… I kind of like a guy too. He’s this kid from the school band,” Ryan says quietly. He looks up at me quickly before turning his head away, blowing a puff of smoke out towards the mall. “Am I going to tell him I like him? No, because it’s a simple little crush and I just got out of a relationship.” He says it as if it’s no big deal, and a part of me feels… disappointed? Upset? I’m not sure why though. 

“So you’re bisexual then?” I ask for confirmation and he nods. “Does the school know?” I already know the answer is a no, because I’m sure if he was out I would have been hearing a lot more rumours about him than I did. Or maybe people just don’t care? Ryan waves his free hand towards me. 

“No, because it isn’t really relevant and it’s not their business. It’s not like I’m dating a guy, or anyone for that matter.” I hum along, because he’s right. We sit in a silence for a few minutes before he speaks up again. “Did you want to tell me about what happened with Kevin?”

I take a deep breath. Nothing _really_ happened, I suppose it’s what didn’t happen that pissed him off. “Kevin wanted to meet up, and I agreed. I knew what was most likely going to happen, he’d probably want me to jack him off-” Ryan makes a face. “or something along those lines,” I pause for a minute, examining the hood of the car in attempt to avoid Ryan’s questioning eyes. “I was up for it, because when you’re a guy like me in a relationship with a guy like him, you feel like he has control over you, y’know? What he says, goes. What he wants, happens. All that stuff. But then I had to tell you I couldn’t make lunch, I lied to your face, and that just kind of put me off. Obviously when Kevin wanted a handjob I told him no, and he ended up saying some shit about my glasses before smashing them. You called just as I was trying to leave, he didn’t seem to like that.”

“What about when-” Ryan slightly pushes. I stop him, nearly choking on the breath I was holding. I know he was going to bring up the time I briefly mentioned when we got lunch a month ago. I gave him hints, I answered questions, he’s putting all of the pieces together. 

“I don’t want to talk about that. Please Ry, not right now.” I plead, not breaking eye contact.

Ryan gives a small nod and gives me an apologetic look before throwing away the butt of his cigarette and moving to sit flush up against me. “I’m so sorry Brendon,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I slowly breath out as I lean my head on his shoulder. “You can talk to me about it any time, okay? I’m your friend, you don’t have to be scared.” I wasn’t scared of him, not exactly. I was more scared of what he knew about me, what he could do to me. He could dump me on my ass in front of the school, spill my secrets, and claim that our entire friendship was a joke if he really wanted to. I know he wouldn’t, but possibilities are terrifying sometimes. Instead of verbally responding I just nod slowly against his shoulder, and I feel him ever-so-slightly tighten his arm. 

No one could touch us in that moment. The sky was golden, not a cloud in sight. We sat like that for who knows how long; seconds, minutes, hours. We watched the sunset, the sky gradually begin to darken, before eventually we witnessed the moon make it’s way on to the scene. The crickets began to chip as our breaths stayed steady, our position the same besides my arm slipping around his waist. 

His index finger drew endless circles on my bicep, I lost count somewhere along the way.


	10. "You Seem Damn Near Perfect To Me."

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Nine:**

**“You Seem Damn Near Perfect To Me.”**

I’ve decided that I liked Jessica a hell of a lot more when she wasn’t talking to me. Don’t get me wrong, she seems like a nice girl, full of sunshine and smiles, but it seems like recently she has been going out of her way to find me and bombard me with questions. These questions usually range from “why did Ryan leave me?” to “does he have someone else?” and it drives me insane.

“I just don’t understand how this could happen,” she tells me, arms crossed and foot tapping. The two of us are standing by the front gates, Jon taking longer than usual to pick me up. She arrived at my side nearly five minutes ago, and has not stopped talking about Ryan since. “We were fine, y’know? We even had _sex_ the day before he told me it was over for good.”

“Was that the night of the party?” I ask with a bored tone. I don’t mean to sound uninterested but honestly, I can only take so much. “Wasn’t he drunk?”

Her cheeks tinge a bit pink, and she looks away before continuing. “I suppose he was, but he was at a party. Who wasn’t drunk that night, and who wasn’t getting any action?” I’m taken aback. Jessica never really stood out as this kind of person to me, one who would be blunt about topics such as the things that go on at parties. She seemed pretty conservative when I first met her. “Even Kevin! With that guy!” She looks at me now, snapping her fingers. Her eyes drift down my face to the red hoodie I am wearing, the one I wore the night of the party. She stops for a second before turning away. “I just… I didn’t expect it to happen that abruptly. We had been a thing for awhile.”

It’s in moments like these where I do actually feel bad for her, because sure she may be annoying and a tad needy, but she literally got her heart broken. Spencer once told me that they were friends before they were official, so not only did she lose a boyfriend, but she lost a friend too. 

I awkwardly stand next to her, not really knowing what to say for a bit, when Ryan appears over my shoulder. “Hey Bren,” he says casually, glancing at Jessica. “Why are you still here?” Next to us Jessica awkwardly shifts her footing, typing something into her phone. I tell Ryan that Jon is late picking me up, and he offers me a ride home, which I decline.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He’ll probably take me to get pizza too, so..” I shrug. Ryan nods his head, and begins to leave. 

“Hey Ryan!” Jessica calls when he’s nearing the parking lot. He turns back to us. “Do you mind if we talk tonight?” He begins to turn around, and I’m sure I see a look of discomfort on his face. Jessica is quick to continue. “It’s really important!” She sounds desperate, but not like she was a few minutes ago when talking to me. Her tone suggests that the topic is serious, and Ryan stops fully. He looks at her for a few minutes, contemplating. 

“I’ll be over at seven.” He says, and then continues his trek to his car.

Jessica looks over at me. “He’s never offered me a ride home,” she says, and I don’t see how that’s important. 

~~~

It’s nearly five in the morning, and my phone is ringing. I ignore it, but it rings again. Slowly I reach my arm out from under the blanket, grab my phone, and bring it to my ear. “Hello?” I mumble.

“Bren, hey, are you busy?” Ryan asks, seeming to be fully awake and ready to face the day. I groan, and roll onto my back, staring at my ceiling. “Wait, I didn’t wake you did I?” I groan again, and struggle to chuckle.

“Well I’m awake now. Why? What’s up? Why are you up so early?”

“I haven’t slept yet,” he admits. “but I’m ready to pass out any second. I was wondering if I could see you. I’ll come pick you up and everything. Buy you breakfast. My treat.” In response I mumble a noise that he must take as confirmation, because he continues. “Alright! I’ll be over in ten.”

I throw my phone at the end of my bed once the call dies, and I drag myself out of bed, despite the protests from my tired eyes and aching limbs. Now is not the time to start the day, now is the time to be sleeping. Instead of getting ready, as I should be, I just keep my pj pants on, throw a hoodie on over my bare torso, and slip on some shoes before waiting on the front porch. 

He arrives a short time after, and I groggily walk to his car and slip into the front seat. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, looking the exact opposite of refreshed. His clothes are all wrinkled and crooked, the same ones from school the day before, and his hair is a wild mess upon his head. “Have you been drinking?” I ask, but there is no point. I know he has, his car smelling distinctly of alcohol and cigarettes. He nods slowly. I shake my head. “We’re not going anywhere, come on, come inside or something. You shouldn’t be driving.”

~~~

I manage to sneak Ryan into my room, and he looks around slowly as we toe off our shoes. “I’ve never been in here…” he says, but to be fair, he’s never been inside my house. “Seems cozy.” He manages, gesturing to my unmade bed, from which I got out in a hurry. I shrug slightly, and we both shed our hoodies before crawling into my bed.

“Why did you want to see me?” I ask quietly, my tired state still not used to loud noises. “Is there a reason why you were drinking?” 

“I don’t know, I just wanted to talk I guess.” His reaction time is slightly slow, he’s taking his time as his mouth forms the words. “I was hanging out with Jessica.”

I almost ask him if ‘hanging out’ constitutes talking or fucking, just as he had said to me when I was talking about Kevin. I suppose I'm slightly iffy and uncomfortable with the possibility of him doing either one with Jessica, and I can’t seem to put a finger on why. Instead, I just wait for him to continue.

“She uh…” he stops, his hesitation clear. He visually looks distressed, and he grabs my hand. He looks at me, his eyes sending the silent question of _is this okay?_ and I nod. He leans his head back against the wall. “She told me she’s pregnant.”

He takes in a deep breath, and I feel his grasp become a bit tighter. I don’t say anything, I just stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. 

“She told me she doesn’t want it… the baby, or whatever. She said she’s too young to take care of a child, and she has an appointment for an abortion on Sunday. She seemed very adamant about it, telling me she didn’t want a child she couldn’t raise. She told me if I want it though, she’ll cancel the appointment.” I can’t even tell how he’s feeling. Obviously judging by the alcohol intake he isn’t handling it the best, though I’m not sure how he could be. He’s a teenager, soon to be out of school. I’m sure the last thing he expected was for his ex girlfriend to tell him he has the possibility of being a parent. “At first I thought she was kidding, some ploy to get back together, which I suppose she expected me to think, because she took a pregnancy test while I was there. And she’s giving me two days. _Two days_ to decide whether or not I want to be a father.”

“How do you feel about it?” I ask, not really knowing what to say.

“I think I’m going to ask her to keep the baby.” He tells me quietly. “I know it’ll be hard… I know my dad won’t like the idea, but he’ll get used to it, right? If he doesn’t I guess I’ll leave and take the kid with me.”

I hum in response and we sit there, sinking lower and lower into the blankets, sleep slowly overtaking us. 

“How are things with Kevin?” Ryan asks randomly, his voice sounding slightly sour.

“He didn’t talk to me all day,” I tell him. He never approached me in the halls, not to yell at me, punch me, anything. He just went on about his day, ignoring my existence entirely. I’m not completely sure how I feel about it. “How’s mystery boy from band. What was his name again?”

Ryan sleepily shrugs beside me. “He seems alright,” he hesitates. “His name is Chris. Plays a bunch of instruments, but he excels when playing the piano.”

I nod my head, eyes becoming heavy. Soon enough, both of us drift off.

~~~

I wake up a lot warmer than usual, and it’s not due to the late morning sun shining in my window. It seems that during our sleep Ryan and I got a lot closer than we were while awake, which hardly seems possible with how we were sitting. We’re both in the middle of the bed, fronts pressed together, his arms wrapped loosely around me, holding me to him, while I slightly grasp his side. I lift my head up slightly to see him awake, eyes drooping slightly. “Good morning,” I whisper, slightly hesitant. 

“Sorry about this,” he gestures with one hand to our bodies. “I was going to move, but your head is kind of on my arm.” I quickly sit up, causing him to chuckle slightly. “You were warm,” he says, tone slightly whiny. I roll my eyes. He laughs again but stops suddenly. “Ow.. shit. Headache. Do you have anything I can take?”

I get up out of bed, stretching my limbs before glancing at the clock. 11:54 AM, my parents are sure to be awake. I stumble out of my room, scratching my chest as I do. “Who owns the car in front of our house?” My dad asks when he sees me. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper in his hands and glasses perched on his nose. Water and pills is all I needed, but it seems a lecture is also on the menu. “You don’t have someone in your room, do you?”

I quickly grab a clean glass from the dishwasher. “That’s Ryan’s car. He stopped by this morning.” I tell him, trying to keep the conversation brief. I really am not in the mood for my dad to hound me about not asking his permission before letting “kids from the street” into the house. From next to my dad, my mom claps her hands together. 

“Oh that’s lovely! Do we finally get to meet him?” my mom asks, sounding excited. My dad looks like he’s trying to keep his head on. “I can make breakfast! Or lunch! Does he like pancakes? I’m sure I have a box laying around.”

“Grace,” he exclaims, sounding mortified. “Did it occur to you that he didn’t ask if this friend was welcome? We don’t even know this boy! He could be a drug dealer. A _drug dealer_!”

I roll my eyes as I fill the glass up with water from the tap, and open a cupboard, looking for Advil or something of the sort. “Ryan isn’t a drug dealer.” Sure he smokes and drinks alcohol, and gets my smokes for me, but that doesn’t constitute a drug dealer. No. “He’s the star player of the school hockey team, he has to stay in ‘perfect physical condition’ or whatever.”

My dad snorts from behind his paper. “I thought jocks bullied you,” he chuckles, most likely referring to Kevin, who to them, still remains unnamed. I turn around from where I’m rummaging in the cupboard to face him, my expression asking if he’s really serious. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand, the pills I needed finally in my possession, now awaiting on a perfect exit point. “Are you trying to say I made that stuff up?”

My dad shrugs. “All I’m saying is that your stories don’t match up. First you say that the jocks hate you and beat you up, then I walk into your room this morning and see you _cuddling_ with a boy who I find out later is also a jock. He’s not gay, is he? You two seemed awfully close.”

I slam the cupboard as hard as I can. “I can’t believe you. Who else do you think broke my glasses. Who else gave me these bruises? And hell, if you already knew I had someone in my room, why did you ask? Stop making assumptions before you make a fool of yourself. You want assumptions? Fine, I assume you’re an asshole. there you go.”

My mother stands by the counter still, from where she was gathering materials to make pancakes, body frozen in shock. My dad stands up, red in the face. “You get out of my house, right now. Don’t come back until that attitude of yours is gone, probably got it from all the fags you hang out with.”

With that, I go back to my room, slamming the door. I hand Ryan the glass and pills, and he looks slightly alarmed. “What happened?” He asks, sounding concerned. I begin throwing clothes around my room, trying to look for a clean pair of jeans. “Brendon, hey,” he tries again once I ignore him. “What’s wrong?” He’s standing up now, the cup and Advil set down on the bedside table. He grabs my arms and makes me face him. “What happened?”

“My dad’s an asshole,” I deliver, looking away. I grab a random shirt and pull it over my head. “Gotta get dressed, dad wants me out of the house.” When I go to continue looking for jeans, he stops me again. 

“Can you just tell me what happened? My head fucking hurts and I’m not sure how much more door slamming I can take, okay? Please.” He’s already dressed I noticed, so I suppose he didn’t just lay around while I was gone. 

“He thought I was making shit up, about Kevin bullying me, since you’re also a ‘jock’ and don’t bully me. Apparently if one athletic guy doesn’t bully me, none of them do.” I say dismissively, pulling my pj pants off, and replacing them with semi-clean jeans. “He apparently came in my room this morning and saw us sleeping, and got, like, outraged and began asking me if you were gay. Then blamed my attitude on ‘hanging out with fags’. When I stood up for myself he told me to leave, so here we are.” I finish, shrugging on a hoodie. We get our shoes on and leave the room together, finding my mom at the front door, my dad nowhere in sight. 

“You must be Ryan,” she greets, smiling sadly. “I’m Grace. I’m sorry you can’t stay longer.”

“It’s not a problem at all. I didn’t mean to cause one, I’m sorry.” He responds politely. 

“I don’t know where I’ll be,” I say quickly. “Maybe Jon’s. I’m not sure yet.”

“I have some money for you,” she tells me, grabbing my hand and folding a fifty dollar bill into it. “I’m sorry this happened Brendon. I’ll call you, okay?” I nod quickly, and kiss her cheek. “I love you. Be careful.” 

When Ryan and I make it to the car, I slam my head against the dashboard once, alarming him. “What the fuck Bren?” he asks, grabbing my shoulder and holding me to the back of my seat, preventing me from doing it again. “Why did you do that?”

“My family makes me sick,” I say simply. “This happens at least once every few weeks. I can never please my father it seems. Something’s obviously wrong with his youngest kid, as he loves to point out all the time.”

Ryan continues to stare at me. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, there’s something wrong with him, and not you? You seem damn near perfect to me.” I stare back at him, and we lock eyes. He cracks a small smile, and I pull him in for a hug, which proves to be slightly awkward considering we’re sitting in a car.

“Thank you,” I whisper, because for once, someone other than Jon, has said something good about me, and I actually believe them. he’s making me believe. 

Ryan kisses my temple softly. “Yeah, no problem Brendon. I mean it, don’t you forget that.”


	11. "You're Trouble Ryan Ross!"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Ten:**

**“You’re Trouble Ryan Ross!”**

Ryan drove us to his house, which wasn’t too far away. It is a small house, a lot closer to the Strip than mine, which has worn yellow siding with a driveway and walkway made of dirt and pebbles. The numbers 253 were faded above his overflowing mailbox. It seems as if Ryan hasn’t been home in a while. Considering it’s only a Saturday, I wonder where he’s been. He parks roughly, not bothering to keep straight, but keeps a fair distance away from his father’s car. “So my dad’s home…” Ryan says slowly, leaning his head back against his headrest, sighing. “Him and I aren’t exactly on the greatest terms right now, but I’m sure he’ll keep it toned down if you’re around.” He quickly gets out of the car.

Suddenly I feel extremely nervous, not so willing to follow him out of the car, until he sends a look back at me. I scramble out of the car and up the steps to where Ryan is grabbing all the mail from the box, and pulling the screen door open. Inside the house all the fans are on, just blowing humid air around the room. Upon hearing the door opening, a small dog comes running out from where I assume is the kitchen, tongue hanging out of the side of it’s mouth. “Oh hello Lucy darling!” Ryan exclaims, tossing the mail on the coffee table before crouching down to pet the dog. I look around the room and spot a middle-aged man in a recliner near the television, eyeing me suspiciously. 

“Ryan, who’s this?” the man asks, setting a bottle on the table. “Where’ve you been?”

I see Ryan noticeably flinch at his words. “Hey dad,” he says slowly glancing back at me. “This is Brendon.” I lift my hand up in a small greeting, and his dad nods back at me. I shuffle a bit closer to Ryan, getting the vibe that he wants to make a quick exit. 

“I’m George. So Ryan, are you going to answer my question?” 

“I’ve been with Spencer. Visited Jessica last night. And no,” Ryan rushes, holding a hand up as if to physically stop his dad’s words from coming. “We are not back together. She just wanted to talk about some things.”

“That’s a shame, she was a nice girl. As for leaving without telling me, I’ll talk to you about it when Brendon leaves. When _is_ Brendon leaving?”

Ryan scoops Lucy up into his arms, looking more and more tired by the moment. “I was hoping he could stay a couple days-”

“Ry, no it’s fine, I’m sure Jon can-”

“He had a fight with his parents and things aren’t going too smoothly. His mom wants him to give his dad some space.”

His dad looked slightly pissed, but he gives in. “Alright, but I expect you to help with the dishes.” 

~~~

“If it’s alright for me to ask, what’s up with your dad?” I ask Ryan as we situate ourselves on his bed. Lucy lays in Ryan’s lap, nipping playfully at his fingers. Ryan looks away to the corner of his room, deep in thought. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say hurriedly, in response to his hesitation. “I can wait. I’ll be here whenever you want to tell me. If you ever do.”

He noticeably sighs, taking a few breaths before starting. “I made a mistake in ninth grade. I had my, uh…” he hesitates. “I had a guy over. A guy I was screwing around with, figuring my sexuality out with I guess, as horrible as that sounds. My dad walked in on us one day, and despite me apologizing to the guy over and over again, he never forgave me. My dad… he was downright pissed, to say the least. He said he didn’t want a fag for a son, and the next year he signed me up for hockey. I played it for a bit when I was younger, and he thought that if I started playing it again it’ll straighten me out. Both literally and sexually, I guess, since I started drinking and such in ninth grade too.” He sits there for a moment, allowing me to soak everything in. He pets Lucy slowly, as if he could absorb the calm vibes she was radiating. “I hate playing hockey, but I play it well, and I like acting cocky around Kevin,” he admits, chuckling a bit. “That’s why it bothers him so much, because it’s something he enjoys a lot but isn’t noticed as much because of me. Hockey is literally the only thing that my dad is proud of me for, and there’s no possible way he would ever let me quit it. He’s put so much money that we don't have into it. So our relationship is a little rocky, and I guess you know now I haven’t been home in a while.”

“Oh my god Ryan, I’m so sorry,” I tell him, and place a comforting hand atop of his. “I didn’t know. Are you sure you want to be here? Like I said I can go to Jon’s, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Ryan shakes his head quickly. “No, no it’s okay. This is good, yeah? I can’t hide from him forever. Besides the look he gave seemed like he was pretty alright with the idea of you staying, I’m sure he’ll like you.”

I roll my eyes and lay back on the bed, letting my feet hang off the side. “Yeah until he finds out I’m gay. I don’t know how that will happen, but it always does.” I respond, chuckling. Ryan smiles sadly. 

“That aside, I suppose. You’re polite, and hopefully you’re willing to do dishes because I hate doing them,” Ryan laughs quietly, a smile forming on his face. It’s weird, almost. I’ve never been here before, I’ve never seen Ryan interact with his father before, but still, something tells me Ryan smiling in his own home is not a common occurrence. But here he is, lounging on his bed with his dog and I, acting as if there’s nothing wrong. It takes a strong person to do that. 

~~~

I end up doing the dishes as Ryan sits on the counter, legs swinging and texting Spencer. We had pasta for dinner, since Ryan wanted to cook something simple and no one had any objections. Jessica had swung by quickly, as per Ryan’s request, to hear what he had to say about the baby. She looked slightly relieved, yet scared, to hear he wants to keep it. “I can try to help with the hospital bills,” Ryan had said quietly, eyes on the entrance to the living room, from where we sat in the kitchen. He still hasn’t told his dad, but the news is still fairly new, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want me here when he does it. “I just… I want this kid. Our kid.” 

I watched as Jessica slowly twirled her fork around the noodles, since Ryan was nice enough to invite her over for dinner, and not just to pop in and out. “I’m just concerned. Is this the right household for a child Ryan? Your dad, he-” she paused abruptly, and took an obvious breath to compose herself. “Will you be able to take time away from your friends to take care of the baby? Do you even know how to take care of one?” She sounded extremely worried, which is understandable. “You know I won’t be able to help, not regularly.” she reminded him, as a second thought.

“I could come over for a bit around the beginning, to help out. I used to babysit kids on my block, I can teach him. I can take care of the baby sometimes, it’s not like I have anything else to do.” I interrupted, knowing that Ryan doesn’t have many other people who could help out. He sent me a gracious smile. 

“But Brendon, that’s the thing. It’s not your baby. I want Ryan to take care of it.” Jessica persisted. 

“Jessica that’s just unreasonable. Do you think new mothers do everything on their own? No, they almost always have someone, whether it’s the father of the baby or their parents or something. Not many people do it alone.” He had stressed, putting his head in his hands. “Why are you making this so difficult? If you don’t want to have the baby, don’t. No one is going to make you. I’m just saying that I would like to raise my child. it’s up to you. You have to trust me.”

“This is all your fault, you’re trouble Ryan Ross!” Jessica had yelled, standing up, and childishly pointed a finger at him. 

Ryan dropped his fork on to his plate. “My fault?” he asked, disbelievingly. “I was _drunk_ Jessica! What you did could count as _rape_! Don’t go blaming this on me.” His voice was still at a moderate volume, the chance of his father hearing was still a possibility. With that though, Jessica’s face had flushed red and she stormed out of the house. Ryan and I had finished our dinner in peace after that, and now here I am, washing the dishes. 

“Ryan, why don’t you give Brendon a hand?” George asks, walking into the room carrying a plate in one hand and an empty beer bottle in the other. Behind the hair hanging in his face I can see Ryan roll his eyes slightly, and I stifle a laugh. 

“Oh no, it’s alright. I wash the dishes at home, and since you’re letting me stay, it’s the least I could do.” I respond, taking the plate from his hand and dumping it into the soapy water. His father hums in response and tosses the bottle into the bin in the corner before grabbing another one. 

“So Brendon,” he starts, taking a seat at the small kitchen table that Jessica had occupied almost an hour before. “What do you do? Have any plans for college?”

Ryan snorts from his spot on the counter. “He’s a year younger than me dad, not really the time to be thinking about college. He’s still got awhile.”

I scratch the back of my neck and debate telling him that I want to go to hairstyling school. “No.. no plans yet. My parents want me to do something respectable, like a doctor, but I don’t think I’d enjoy that much. I enjoy playing music.”

George nods his head. “Are you in band with Spencer? You know Spencer right?” He looks at Ryan for confirmation, who nods his head stiffly. 

“Nah, I play more for recreational purpose, not for competition. I had a friend who was in band with Spencer though, before he graduated.”

His dad continues to ask me a couple more questions, the conversation sounding more like an interview rather than friendly talk between a man and his son’s friend, but I don’t complain. Eventually though, Ryan makes the excuse of having some math homework to start before he drags me off to his bedroom. 

“I think he likes you,” Ryan tells me as he takes a seat at his desk. “That good I guess, because I hope to have you around a lot more,” his eyes flick up to meet mine before concentrating on something else. “Have you talked to Kevin lately?”

I sit on the edge of his bed, playing with the frayed end of one of his sheets. “This morning I guess, yeah,” I say honestly, taking a deep breath. “He came to apologize, told me he was drunk that morning. That doesn’t surprise me I guess, since he totally reeked of beer, but what did surprise me is that he gave me some money to get new glasses. He gave me a bit more than I need to buy them though. I guess he must have felt bad. I don’t think he knows how much they actually are.”

Ryan looks up from his phone for a second, a look of interest flicking in his eye. 

~~~

“Are you ready to be a cliché Brendon?” Ryan asks as we stand on the sidewalk in front of Kevin’s house. I snort, Ryan unknowing that sometimes I basically live a teen movie. I nod my head, excited for what I knew would come. I feel Ryan’s hand grasp mine, and squeeze it once before pulling back, and opening the carton of eggs he had in his other hand. “I hope your aim is good.”

As it turns out, our aim didn’t need to be good. We both missed the targets of the front door and his mustang several times, but that just made us to laugh at the other and try to do better. My heart was racing, the smile was evident on my lips. Even when the foyer light turned on and Kevin came barrelling out of the house, I couldn’t keep my composure. I started to laugh, almost hysterically as Ryan and I hopped into his car, me thrusting my hand out my window, middle finger raised high. “Screw you Kevin Sanders!” I yelled, loud enough for him to hear. “Screw you!”

Ryan was laughing now too, the gorgeous sound tumbling from his lips, filling the quiet space of the car. he glances over at me, small smile on his lips. “You’re not as good a kid as I thought you were, Urie.” I almost ask what he means, but I understand. Apparently at first glance I give off the vibe that I stick straight to the rules, especially being Mormon and having so many older siblings dictating what I do. I smirk back at him. 

“Is that really so bad, Ross?”

He smiles a bit wider, shaking his head. “No it isn’t, not at all.”

~~~

It’s late, and I do not know the time. Ryan and I have been in bed for a while, bidding goodnight to each other what seems like hours ago. I haven’t slept yet, too many thoughts rushing through my brain. What throws me off is that after minutes of silence from the both of us, Ryan wrapped his arm around my waist from behind. Did that mean he’s the one who initiated what happened when we woke up this morning, or did it really happen in our sleep? And what about that boy from band… Chris? I feel concerned, but at the same time, thinking of both this morning and my current situation, I feel my heart _do something_ is that good? Bad? I have so many questions, many of which I will never ask him in fear that I will make a fool of myself. 

I take a deep breath, not caring that it could give away my fake sleeping facade. The two outcomes would be either him not noticing, or he does notice and know that I don’t care that his arm is around me. In the end though, he doesn’t pull away, which part of me counts as a victory. 

“You deserve a lot better than what you have Brendon,” he whispers softly as my eyes begin to droop. I want to reply, I want to say thank you, tell him that he’s so good for me, but my vocals fail me. 

_You do too Ryan_ , I think, _you do too_.


	12. "He Says He Likes Him"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys i am so so so sorry for not updating. School's been so hectic, but summer break is coming so I'm hoping to get back on track.

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Eleven:**

**“He Says He Likes Him!”**

Within a week, Ryan and I have become so domestic that I think his dad is starting to question us. If walking the dog together willingly wasn’t setting him off then it would have probably been the fact that Ryan and I have a _system_ when it comes to washing dishes. Ryan Ross, the boy who hates cleaning dishes and everything about it, is now completely open to the idea of me washing them, and him drying and putting them away, with no complaining. We do our laundry too, taking turns folding the clothes and putting them away, his in the top two drawers of the dresser, and mine in the bottom two. In a week his bedroom doesn’t just seem like his bedroom anymore, it appears as our bedroom; it’s exactly the same except various items of mine have begun to litter the surfaces, from homework to a stupid award the school gave me this week for having a perfect attendance last year.

His dad sends us confused and concerned looks occasionally, but instead of saying anything he mostly sighs and goes back to whatever he was doing. Ryan tells me he probably doesn’t care, and that’s a comforting thought. He says he likes me too, they talked about me one day while I was at Jon’s. I was skeptical at first, assuming that Ryan only said it to make me feel better, but when I got home that night George complimented my new glasses that Jon took me to pick out. From behind his dad, Ryan smirked and said he liked that I stuck with red. I smiled shyly and said thank you to the both of them.

My mom has called once since I was kicked out, only to tell me she heard about my award, that she was proud, and she expects me to keep that streak going. What she doesn’t seem to know is that I skipped a class a while ago to get lunch, so the streak is already tarnished. The thought made me laugh a bit. What I found odd was that she didn’t mention any time that I could come home, and usually it’s after a week. I must’ve really pissed my dad off this time. I suppose it doesn’t matter, Ryan doesn’t seem bothered by me being here, and his dad hasn’t said anything. I’ll make a mental note to ask Ryan to talk to him about it. 

It’s Tuesday now, and I’m with Jon on his balcony. He’s leisurely having a smoke and drinking coffee, while I sit on the cement floor, knees hugged to my chest. It’s unusually cool for an early fall day in Vegas, but I don’t mind. Since it’s a Tuesday Ryan and Kevin are at hockey practice, getting ready for their game on Friday. The team has to get together more now than they did at the beginning of the season, since there have been ‘personal conflicts between members that affect how they play’ as their coach put it, and Ryan didn’t even have to tell me that the statement was directed at him and Kevin. 

Ever since the incident involving us egging Kevin’s house, he’s been even more hostile towards Ryan, which isn’t really surprising. What I did find unexpected was that Kevin has been trying to talk to me more and more. Whether it’s to apologize for my glasses, tell me my new ones look good, or even to ask me how I am, he always has something to say. I haven’t told Ryan about it, no, it really doesn’t involve him and I’m sure if he did know he’d try to forcefully shove a hockey puck down his throat to shut Kevin up. Every time there’s a hockey practice though I come over to Jon’s, and we talk about Kevin and Ryan for hours on end. 

“I really don’t know Brendon,” Jon says suddenly, flicking his cigarette. “You know where I stand on the whole Kevin thing; literally nothing good will come from it. And judging the things you’ve told me about you and Ryan, it seems to me like you like him.”

I nearly choke when I hear Jon’s last sentence. The topic, the idea, of me liking Ryan has been circulating a lot in my mind lately, as a possibility. It’s not something I like to think about often, due to him being a friend, and me being involved with Kevin. But Ryan… he’s something else honestly. I feel like it’s the first time anyone has shown actual interest in me, and perhaps this is just me jumping to conclusions about things. I mean, it would appear as though he likes me back, but he doesn’t. He likes _Chris_. Chris, I think, my mind reeling. Who is he? I haven’t heard him mentioned, not by Ryan or Spencer. 

I change the subject, veering it away from the topic of Ryan, just slightly. “You were in the band a couple years, right? Was there ever a guy named Chris?” I ask Jon, tapping my fingers on the concrete ground beneath me. He looks puzzled for a moment, staring off into the distance. “I don’t know his last name,” I continue. “But Ryan brought him up, said he played some instruments. Really good at piano.”

Jon snorts. “Sounds like you, except you’re ‘too cool’ for band,” he laughs, flicking the butt of his cigarette onto an ashtray. “But no, I can’t say I remember a Chris. maybe he’s new this year? I don’t know. What did he say about him?” Jon stands up, gesturing for me to do this same before brushing his clothes off. “Do you want some coffee?”

“He says he likes him,” I probably shouldn’t be telling Jon this. “I was just curious because I don’t know him either.” Jon looks back at me, a smirk on his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, doubtfully. “Curious. I’m sure that’s all you are.”

***

It’s nearing ten o’clock, and Ryan isn’t home. He said he was going to hang out with some guys from the hockey team. His dad was sort of reluctant to let him since it _is_ a school night, but both Ryan and I know that he would never really stop him. 

My phone has been blowing up with text message upon text message from Jessica. I don't even know how she got my number, but all she's been sending me is long tangents about how she is too young to be a mother and doesn't want to get fat. I will admit, I understand that she is under a lot of stress, but I never expected her to be this… whiny? I don’t know, I just think that if any girl were to get pregnant and be excited about it, I expected it to be her. I thought maybe she’d obsess over the idea of getting cute, tiny clothes for the kid and things like that, but I was very wrong; she wants nothing to do with this kid. Tonight she says she’s still nervous about telling people, but she knows she needs to tell people soon. Her baggy sweaters will not hide her forever, and I’ve already started to hear rumours at school. I can sort of understand how she feels, to an extent. Obviously, I know nothing about being a pregnant teenage girl, but I know what it’s like to have to try to hide something from your parents and people at school. In a way I have it a bit better than her because I can hide until I’m comfortable, whereas she can not. 

“Not to be…rude or anything, but why don’t you talk to your friends about this?” I ask suddenly, rubbing my hand across my forehead. Tonight Jessica decided to call me, which threw me for a loop at first. “Like I don’t know Jessica, I just feel like they’ll be able to help you out more, they know you. I’ve barely talked to you, and when I have it’s in some relation to Ryan.” 

On the other end of the call, I can hear her take a deep sigh. “I know…Yeah, I know. The thing is though, all my friends absolutely _adore_ Ryan, they would just bitch at me for cursing him out all the time. Besides, I’m not even sure how they would react if they hear I’m pregnant, you know? You already know, so it just makes it easier for me.” It actually astounds me how she can assume that I’m perfectly okay hearing her talk down about Ryan all the time. It’s not even that I don’t defend him, I do occasionally, but it doesn’t really make a difference. She’s angry, she’s emotional, and God forbid I actually tell her this is all her fault. I laugh at the thought, startling Jessica. “Do you think that’s funny Brendon? That I’m terrified of being honest with my friends? They could hate me, they could make fun of me.”

“No, that isn’t what I was laughing about,” I say. “But you’re how many months along? Or weeks, I don’t know how they measure,” I sigh, and Jessica tells me it’s weeks. “Weeks, okay. It’s been what? Eight or nine? Somewhere along there? You’re really going to start showing soon, you need to tell people.”

“It’s actually only been almost six weeks,” she corrects me, sounding tired. “People probably already know. I don’t know how, but I’ve heard rumours.”

I attempt to wipe the tiredness from my eyes. “Those are rumours Jess, everyone hears rumours about many, many things. They aren’t always true, and don’t have a lot of evidence to attempt to back them up.”

She hums quietly and hesitates before replying. “Like you being gay? Like how that’s a rumour?” She asks with genuine interest. “Not that I would have a problem with it,” she continues. 

“That’s…” I pause a bit and take a breath. “No, that one’s true.”

It feels like something inside me has snapped, and I don’t know whether to describe it as a good thing or a bad thing. It is not as if I’m finally admitting I’m gay, no, I’ve personally accepted that _years_ ago, but I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter? People have worse secrets? I’m in a better position than some people? No, those aren’t it either. I really don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t even something in me snapping, maybe it was my eardrum shattering due to the sound of Jessica squealing. Either one is plausible. “I knew it!” She basically yells, causing me to pull the phone a bit farther away from my ear. I should have expected this, considering she assumed I was gay when she first met me. And it’s, well, Jessica. “Who do you like?” She continues, her voice lowering in volume a small fraction. “Do you have a boyfriend? Is he cute?”

I suddenly feel overwhelmed, not so much so I can't breathe, but utterly speechless. Surely I could not tell her about Kevin, not that he's my boyfriend or anything. As for liking a boy...well that is a conversation for another day with someone else. “No...no boyfriend,” I get out after searching for words. Before I know it Jessica is offering to find me one and I am quick to decline her offer. “No, I'm okay, really.” 

Am I really okay or am I unwilling to introduce another guy into the mess that is my life? 

***  
Social media exposes my true feelings, because when two in the morning rolls around and I have feigned disinterest in sleep, Ryan’s laptop finds its way into my lap. Online I found out that the night out with the guys ended in a party, and as of 12:28 this morning, Kevin is dating some blonde freshman. I expected myself to be uninterested, because who cares if he's dating some girl, who's name I learn is Christina? Certainly not me, _or so I thought_. The more I looked at the status announcing their spontaneous involvement, and the photos posted along with it, the more anger I seemed to feel. Anger, jealousy, resentment, the whole nine yards. I guess what they say really is true, you never know how much you like someone until you watch them like someone else. But does he actually like her? Or is she just some... some toy to him? No, no that’s not right. _I’m_ the toy here, because I am the one he sneaks around with behind closed doors, the one who he’s stomped all over. I was the toy he kept his dirty little secret, and Christina is the medal he wants to display; she’s the real thing.

Suddenly I’m disgusted with myself, I feel sick to my stomach. Why am I letting this affect me so much? It’s Kevin, it’s not like he actually cares about me. Do I wish he did? I’d like to say no, but I don’t think my heart feels the same. Do I love him? I quickly shove Ryan’s laptop off of my lap and onto the bed next to me and rush to the bathroom, hand pressed to my mouth.   
My knees hit the floor in record time, and I’m emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet soon after. 

I don’t love him, I can’t. He’s a monster. 

I pull away and shift so that I’m sitting with my legs crossed. Outside the bathroom door, I can hear Lucy whining slightly, concerned about the sudden movement. I flush the toilet, and bring a shaky hand to my face, pushing my hair back with a deep breath. I need to stop this, I need to stop thinking about Kevin, I need to stop feeling things for him, this is getting ridiculous. But how do I do that? It’s not like it’s something I can control. I sigh before slowly getting up from the ground and brushing my teeth, eager to remove the taste of bile from my mouth. 

When I get back to Ryan’s room I carefully put his laptop back on his desk and lay down. It’s after three now, and I’m sure even the worst of Vegas’ party goers are probably feeling tired, but like them, I keep going. I refuse to close my eyes, I won’t give into sleep, not until Ryan gets here. I’m hoping maybe he can distract me, from Kevin, and maybe from everything. Maybe he can just talk to me, tell me funny hockey stories, or about anything really, I’m not picky. To occupy myself I do not think of Kevin, instead, I count the cracks in the wall, places where the plaster caved in from the heavy weight of Ryan’s fist on a bad day. Before I know it I see the lights of a car in the driveway, and I smile, he’s home. 

The door to the bedroom is open, as an invitation for Lucy to come and go, and through it I can hear Ryan come in the front door, and he has someone with him. “Let me get you to bed,” I hear her say, but Ryan dismisses her.

“Bren is in there, he’s staying here, remember?” 

“In your bed? That’s no fun. What are you, gay now?” Jessica asks, and I sleepily envision her stomping her foot with a pout on her face. Softly Ryan chuckles and they share goodbyes, and I wonder why she brought him home. Was he with her? Why?

He comes into the bedroom and I am dozing off, finally allowing my body to give in, letting it get the rest it needs. Ryan sighs, but doesn’t turn on the light, and instead undresses in the dark before crawling beneath the covers with me. I feel Lucy shift to make room for him. 

“I miss her Luce,” he whispers, using her nickname. 

Before I sleep, I promise myself I won’t get hurt. You can’t get hurt if you don’t get involved, and from now on, I’m closed off. He isn’t worth it.


	13. "I Missed You."

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Twelve:**

**“I Missed You.”**

I’ve become the bad guy, it’s as simple as that.

Ryan’s noticed, oh boy he’s noticed. He seems personally wounded by my new, withdrawn attitude. I’m quieter now, closed off. I drag my feet through the school halls, shooting daggers with my eyes whenever I see Christina or Jessica. What do they have that I don’t have? Well, besides the fact that they’re females, and I’m not. I nearly smack myself, angered by the realization that I’m thinking about Kevin again. It’s been a week, only a _week_ of me slowly giving up, due to him and Christina being together.

Jon’s concerned, Ryan’s concerned, Spencer’s concerned. Jon wouldn’t have any reason to be concerned if it weren’t for Spencer. I’d been acting normal around Jon, friendly and bubbly, but Spencer went to him asking what was up with me. Jon was confused which led to Spencer telling him everything he knew about the current situation, and now here we are, Jon lecturing me in the middle of a fucking McDonalds parking lot, with food in his lap and ketchup on his face. Goddamn you Spencer Smith, goddamn you. 

“Did you want to talk about it?” Jon asks, and I almost feel like I should be laying on a couch instead of sitting shotgun, and he should be sitting in a chair next to me with his little clipboard and pen, a nametag on his shirt reading ‘Dr. Walker’. Though I love the guy, sometimes he can be overbearing with his questions. “We’re just worried about you, you know,” he continues, chewing a fry, “It’s not like you to be so quiet.” I shift in my seat instead of replying; this sort of thing isn’t necessarily easy to talk about. 

Jon sighs in response to my silence and crumples up his garbage before throwing it in the back seat. “Has your mom talked to you lately? You’ve been out of the house awhile now, haven’t you?” He’s getting desperate, he’s eager to get me to talk about anything. He’ll start with something small, and make his way to the bigger things. I shake my head, uninterested. “Listen dude, I don’t want to have to do this, but I will get Cassie to come back here this weekend just so she can talk to you,” Silence. “Did something happen between you and Ryan? You and Kevin?”

“No,” I’m quick to say it, panicky almost. I don’t want to be that person, the one who gets upset over boys. It’s the unnecessary drama that I’ve always despised, but this time, I’ve brought it upon myself. Jon gives me the look, the one where he tries to measure exactly how much bullshit is coming out of my mouth, and I shrink down into my seat a little. “Honestly Jon, don’t worry about it.” 

Jon hits the steering wheel, causing me to jump a bit. “I can’t believe you, I honestly can’t. This is pathetic, you know that? Kevin is a piece of shit. What has he done to deserve you, Brendon? What has he done to make you stay with him, or want to stay with him for that matter? All he’s done is treated you like a piece of trash he picked up from the curb. He used you. He pushed you, both figuratively and literally. He’s abused you. He’s told you that you aren’t good enough. He’s done all but cheat on you, but you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if he has. He’s a bad person Brendon, you don’t deserve that, and he doesn’t deserve you. Anyone could tell you that.” he’s staring at me, and I crack. I am quickly unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the car door. This is too much. Jon doesn’t know Kevin like I know Kevin. Jon grabs my left wrist before I’m able to leave, and I’m stuck halfway out of the car. “Ryan would tell you that too. Ryan’s done so much for you, and yet you try to hold on to Kevin. Why is that?”

“Ryan likes Chris,” I snap, yanking my hand away from him. I proceed to get out of the car and slam the door. I begin to walk away as Jon rolls down the window, one last ditch effort to try to talk to me. 

“There is no Chris!” He yells at me, and I pause to wait for him to continue. “I have no idea in hell who this Chris kid is. I have never met him, so I figured I’d ask Spencer about it. He says there is no boy in the band named Chris. Ryan made him up Brendon. He had to.” 

I’m speechless, I can’t believe what Jon is saying. Ryan lied to me? No, he couldn’t have. He had no reason to. Or did he? Was he trying to make me feel better for being gay? Was he making all that up? For all I know he could still be into Jessica, he _was_ with her the other night. Was this the only thing he lied about? Or has he lied about everything? ”But why did he have to?” I ask Jon, my voice quiet. My eyes are pinned to the ground, trying to determine how I feel about the situation. 

Jon audibly sighs behind me, “Ryan likes you, Brendon. It’s obvious; from the way he talks about you, the way he looks at you, everything. He likes you. Ryan has feelings for you, and I know you have feelings for him too. You two have been playing house for what? Almost three weeks? You have to figure this shit out Brendon. Let me take you back to school, and tell Ryan you two need to talk after last period. You shouldn’t let this bother you more than it is.”

Is this what I wanted? Did I want Ryan to like me? Do I even like him? That’s a stupid question because all my reactions to everything that has happened so far points towards yes. But do I want him to like me back? That’s a difficult question. My life is so hectic, so screwed up, that I worry about bringing Ryan into it any further. He’s already had a horrible run in with my dad, and that is not the start of it. Things will only get worse from here, they are destined to. If it isn’t my dad, it will be Kevin, and if it isn’t Kevin, it will be me. 

Jon doesn’t understand anyway. Obviously, it isn’t entirely up to me how this whole situation unfolds, and I can’t even approach Ryan about it until I figure out this mess with Kevin, because that wouldn’t be fair. On the topic of exes, I still have to worry about Jessica because I have no idea what is going on there either. Things are not as easy as Jon is trying to play them out to be, though I wish they were.   
I sigh, and I look back up at Jon for a moment before sending a text and walking away. 

“ _We need to talk after last class. Meet me out back, by the smokers’ pit._ ”

~~~

 

I skip all my afternoon classes but arrive at the school by the end of the day. The smoker’s pit is filled with people from a variety of different grades, and I shake as I hand a freshman a wad of dollar bills in exchange for a few cigarettes. I stick one in my mouth and shove the rest of them in my back pocket before fishing my old lighter out of the front of my jeans. I bring the lighter up to the cigarette I notice that people are beginning to leave, not that I am surprised considering school is done. 

I’m alone and starting my second smoke when I begin to hear footsteps approaching me. I look up to see Kevin standing a few feet away. “Hey,” he says, lacking his usual confidence. I look a bit closer and study his face. He seems slightly worn down, and he doesn’t have his signature smirk on his face. “What did you want to talk about? He’s going straight to the point, he doesn’t want to be here, he shouldn’t be here. 

I shouldn’t be here either, I can only imagine what Jon or Ryan will do once they find out. This was a mistake, a giant mistake. “How’s Christina?” I ask, voice shaky. I’m still quivering, my cigarette dangling between my fingers as my hand hangs at my side. “You two seem happy.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Why did I force him here just to have small talk? He looks confused, he glances around us. 

“She’s alright. I drove her to her dance lessons, so that explains why it took me a bit to get here. I didn’t think this conversation would be short. Why do you ask?” I shrug. He is calm, and it’s very out of character. I’m used to him being loud, the centre of attention. Usually, he is oozing charisma but right now he also seems nervous, and on edge. “You weren’t in class today, I noticed. Ryan was though.” I shrug again, and I wonder why he bothered. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“It’s a recent thing,” I reply, taking another drag. I watch carefully, focusing on the end of the stick, watching it brighten as I inhale. With one final breath, I finish it and throw it to the ground. “I am sick of this game we are playing,” I say as I step on the butt, grinding it into the cement. “I’m tired of thinking I have feelings for you, and you being nice, then turning around and being an asshole. I’m tired of thinking I like you, and I’m tired of you trying to make my life a living hell.” 

I regret it immediately. I exposed myself, I opened myself up and put myself on display for Kevin to see. His expression twists and a smirk decorates his face. “This is about Christina, isn’t it? What are you, jealous?” I don’t reply because I don’t know. But that’s a lie because I do know. I am jealous, and it kills me to admit it. Jon was right, Kevin has done nothing to deserve me. Kevin steps closer, causing me to back up against the wall of the sports equipment shed that the pit is near. I close my eyes, unable to look him in the face as he stands up against me. Being taller, he leans his head down and puts his mouth near my ear. “Is your little boyfriend not getting you off?” 

Suddenly he is palming me through my jeans, and I attempt to stifle a groan. His lips are on my neck and I am heavily breathing, trying to contain myself. My thoughts are running wild as his hand moves up a bit before slipping underneath the waistband of my boxers, and I am trying to think about anything other than what is happening right now. Kevin’s lips are latched onto my neck, sucking in certain places, and just kissing others as his hand begins to move. “Did you miss me?” He asks breathily, and I feel myself nodding into him. “Tell me.”

_RyanRyanRyanRyanRyanRyan_ I thought, he was all I could think about. Why was I thinking about Ryan? I thought I came here to forget. 

“I missed you.” I choke out, and I feel him grin. 

~~~

I get home after dinner, and Ryan seems concerned. “Where have you been?” He asks when I enter the room, tossing my bag on the ground near the bed. He turns in his swivel chair to face me. After the event with Kevin he took me to the coffee shop we always go to and bought me a sandwich, as he told me some things about Christina. I didn’t care, but it was sort of amusing to hear him say she’s a bad kisser, and that she drives him insane. He dropped me off a block over from the house and I walked the rest of the way, eager to keep this a secret for as long as I am able. “You weren’t in class today, and Spencer said you went out for lunch with Jon, but Jon said you came back to the school on your own.”

I shrug in response to Ryan, unable to respond. I sit on the bed with a sigh. “I had to figure some things out. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.” Ryan nods and moves to sit next to me on the bed. 

“I’m just worried about you Bren,” he says, and rests his hand on my lower thigh, near my knee. I feel myself freeze at first but instantly relax. He looks at me and finds my eyes. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Have I done something wrong?” How do I tell him that it honestly is not him, it’s me? He hasn’t done anything wrong, just everything right. 

“No, no,” I shake my head. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Been dealing with some stuff.” Ryan shifts and I begin to feel guilty about what I did with Kevin. What will happen when he finds out? Will it happen again? Ryan nods his head next to me and lays his head on my shoulder. 

“You can talk to me, you know that right? I know things haven’t been ideal lately, especially with Jessica, but it’s okay. I’m always willing to listen to your thoughts and concerns. Plus I love hanging out with you.” I can’t though. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. He would be so disappointed, so _upset_ , especially if he does like me. I could talk to him about Jessica, but I know he will just say there is nothing going on, she is the mother of his unborn child and that is it. Is that hypocritical? Is it wrong of me to worry about Jessica, and then worry about Ryan worrying about Kevin? This is all too confusing, I can feel myself getting a headache. But I’m jumping to conclusions, I still have no confirmation that Ryan actually likes me. Do I want confirmation? My headache is getting worse. After me not responding, he speaks again. “But I get it, I know things can be hard and difficult to talk about, so if you decide to talk to me about anything, just know that I’ll try to help to the best of my ability.”

It’s when he says things like this, or does nice, caring things, that I wonder how I could have ever heard a bad thing about him. I’ve discovered that people like Ryan Ross are often judged due to their enormous amount of social pull, and anyone will try to tear them down from their high stance. I had often heard people play Ryan off as an insensitive guy, one who cared about sports and nothing else, but this is not that guy. 

“You too,” I offer, breaking my silence. “I know I’m not Spencer, but you can talk to me too. I won’t judge you or anything. I wouldn’t trade your secrets for smokes at school.” The last part was meant as a joke, and I’m glad I hear Ryan chuckle next to me as he lays his head on my shoulder. “But seriously, I’m all ears. No judgment, and if you want to tell me something but don’t want me to say anything, just say so.”

Beside me, Ryan stops chuckling. He goes silent, and he stills as I feel him pull away from me. I look at him, both confusion and curiosity etched into my face. I open my mouth to ask what is wrong, but he gently holds a hand up in protest. He sighs, and hesitates before beginning. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I want lately, and I know that in order to get what I want I need to take a stand and take charge. With that, I decided that it would be best for me to be open about everything, including my relationships.” Ryan takes another deep breath and looks away. “I think I should tell Chris I like him, but I’m really worried about what he’ll say. Plus, I think I still have feelings for Jessica.”

That’s it then. If he still likes Jessica then there isn’t a chance for me, or _Chris_.


	14. "What Am I Going To Do With You?"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**”What Am I Going To Do With You?”**

I can’t think straight anymore. I am becoming more and more like the person I never wanted to be, yet I’m not doing anything about it. I used to judge and ridicule myself because I let Kevin treat me like a second choice, a toy of sorts, and yet here I am, letting him have his fun with his girlfriend in public and be with me behind closed doors. It’s only been a few days, but I’ve become numb to his touch, and numb to his apologies of the past and promises of a better future. I know his promises are false, they would have to be considering Christina is still a current fixture to his hip. You can’t really tell a person you’ll be together, forever or not, and then screw around with someone else. It doesn’t work like that. I know better than to believe him, but instead of saying so I just nod my head and go along with it. His words mean nothing to me now.

My feelings, they’ve disappeared. They’ve dissolved, not only for him and regarding him, but all around. I’ve refused to hang out with Jon, and I’m avoiding Ryan and his house at all costs. When he does catch me, whether it’s at night after I’ve come home, or in the halls at school, he looks a bit sad and asks me where I’ve been. I tell him nowhere, not anywhere important, which isn't necessarily a lie considering I’m usually with Kevin, and he isn’t important to Ryan at least. In response, Ryan usually nods, but last night he asked, in the smallest voice he could muster, “You’re not doing drugs, are you Bren?” I wanted to laugh because I probably look like I do with my sunken face and red eyes due to lack of sleep. I told him nothing besides my cigs. He looked so upset, and his eyes searched my face for something, _anything_ that could give away what I’ve been doing, but he finds nothing behind my mask of indifference. 

It’s two in the morning, and I am just getting back from Kevin’s. The house is dark except for the glow from the various digital clocks, and the bit of light coming out from George’s door as I pass. The door to Ryan’s bedroom, _our_ bedroom, is open just a bit, allowing me to enter somewhat silently. The door creaks as I open it a bit more, and I see Ryan roll over from where he’s laying on top of his made bed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he says sleepily to himself. He sits up as I’m setting my backpack down by his desk. His hair is a mop on top of his head, sticking out in random directions, still sticky from this morning’s hairspray. He looks at me, his tired eyes wide and pleading. He seems guilty, almost, as he gently brushes his hair from his face. “Brendon?” he asks. “Can you please talk to me?”

I begin to give in. I had been holding back, ever since I started avoiding him. It’s been hard to look him in the face, it’s been hard to hide my secrets from him. He just seems so selfless, so pure. He seems too willing to hear about my problems, and help in any way he can. But this time, it’s a problem he can’t fix. He can’t fix me, and my low self esteem that forces me back to Kevin each day. I slowly walk over to the bed where he sits, and fold myself up against his side. I’m giving in. I have to let myself give in. 

“Brendon, what’s been going on with you?” he asks, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve been so distant. Everyone’s been worried about you. I’m really concerned. Have I done something wrong?” I hesitate. He thinks he’s done something wrong? He hasn’t, it’s me who’s done something wrong. Everything really. He’d be ashamed, he’d be ashamed to know what I’ve reduced myself too. It’d be even worse if he knew that I barely mind. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I know right away that it’s Kevin asking me if I got in okay. I feel my stomach flip and my mind go fuzzy because I’m so confused. He’s been so nice lately, yet so bad at the same time. Ryan waves in front of my face, drawing me back to him. I didn’t even notice him slide my phone out of my pocket and place it on his nightstand. “Brendon? Seriously, I’m starting to get really freaked out.” 

I don’t reply, but I don’t move away either. I don’t know what has come over me but suddenly I’m trying hard to keep from crying. I fucked up, I messed everything up, and I can’t even fix it. I can’t fix it because I don’t want to. What do I do? _What do I do?_ Ryan sighs but doesn’t pull away either. “I tried talking to Jon-” Jon wouldn’t know anything, I’ve been avoiding him too. There’s no one I can trust. “But he didn’t seem to know much more than I do.” Told you. “And Spencer, well, he seems to know less than we do. But they’re both worried. All three of us are. Can’t you talk to us Brendon? We’re here to help you.” I breathe deeply, I try not to let it show that he’s getting to me. I’m cracking. “I just want to know where you’ve been going. I want to know if you’re _safe_.”

I pull away then. He’s going too far, he’s overwhelming me. I know he cares, I know, but I can’t comprehend it. How could he care? How? He wouldn’t if he knew. 

He can’t know. 

I almost cracked, I almost gave in. I can’t let that happen again, I can’t afford it. Ryan, he’s too good of a guy. He’s too good for this. Ryan Ross is not the stuck up snob I assumed him to be, he’s not self absorbed and he doesn’t only care about hockey and popularity. Truthfully he doesn’t seem to care much for either of the things, but he cares about me. Ryan Ross cares about me. 

I’m standing up, I’m brushing my hands through my hair quickly. I need to sleep, I need to get some rest because I’ve been up too long, I’ve been awake for nearly forty-eight hours, my thoughts and guilt eating away at me. But I can’t, I can’t be here. I need to leave. I look at Ryan, and he looks so devastated. He looks so worried, so sad. “I can’t tell you what is going on,” I tell him. Secrets are secrets for a reason, I want to tell him. I can’t bring myself to though. “But I can tell you I’m fine. I’m okay.” I debate leaving his house entirely, but where am I to go? In defeat, I grab my pillow off his bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” I tell him, and before he can say anything I’m leaving the room. 

-

It’s been hours and I have not slept. Ryan came out twice, the first time he said he was getting a glass of water, but I know he was using it as an excuse to see if I was still here. He tried to talk to me, “We have to talk Brendon,” he insisted, but I rolled over and ignored him. The second time I feigned sleep, trying hard to steady my breathing and even continued to face him to avoid suspicion. With my eyes closed, I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I did feel the couch sink beneath his weight as he sat near my feet. He sighed gently, “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s dawn now, the sun is beginning to rise on the horizon littered with metropolis buildings in the distance. I’m off the couch now, the pillow and blanket I grabbed are folded neatly on the arm of the couch. I’m in the backyard with Lucy, she’s running around happily, the temperature finally decent for once. I can hardly remember the day of the week, let alone how long I’ve been at Ryan’s. Despite both of those things, I decide I cannot stay here anymore, I have to go home. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and though it hasn’t been said, I convince myself of it. Going back to my parents would not be my first choice, but it seems to be my only. Or… maybe I do have somewhere else to go. 

-

Some homecomings do not need just one member coming home, or doesn’t need someone to have physically left. In fact, I never left, not really, but somehow I feel like I’ve come home. The ‘welcome’ is silent, but the hug Cassie gives me is screaming ‘I’ve missed you’. Over her shoulder, I see Jon leaning against the doorframe leading to his kitchen, and I know that it is with these two where I will find the solace and the advice I need. 

Technically, this couldn’t be called a homecoming, since the one who has left (Cassie) is already home, but at the same time, it can be, because I’m home. We are both home, we are both with Jon, in his small, dirty apartment where we both seem to belong. 

Even though it’s still early, around eight in the morning specifically, I tell them they can go back to bed, get some rest. I neglect to mention that I have been up since around four, and have taken Ryan’s dog on three walks and let her run in the backyard four times, all because I was trying to pass the time until it was deemed early, but not too early. The two of them decline though, and instead we talk about how school has been for Cassie and me, and I nearly forget I have any problems.

I forget about Ryan and Kevin; they are far from my mind, that is, until Cassie sighs heavily during a pause in the conversation, and leans back in her chair. She laces her hands behind her neck, and I know what is about to come. “So Bren-buddy,” she starts, using an old nickname in attempt to soften my guard. “Jon’s told me that you’ve got some stuff going on. Any chance you wanted to talk about it?”

I’m silent in response to her question, still unsure of whether or not I want to admit everything I’ve done, and have yet to do. I decide that it isn’t worth it, and beside Cassie, Jon sighs too. “Brendon, you need to talk to us. I don’t know what’s happening to you, but I know that Kevin has to have something to do with it.”

I can feel my patience wearing thin as I snap, “You don’t know anything Jon,” Jon and Cassie send a knowing look to each other, and I know I’ve given myself away. “Life isn’t easy, okay? It’s fucking hard…” I trail off, leaning my head down in my hands. Their looks are chipping away my exterior, my unwillingness to speak is fading fast. “Ryan told me a few days ago that he likes _Chris_ , whoever the fuck that is. You know what else he told me? He still likes Jessica. Chris doesn’t stand a goddamn chance. He doesn’t care, not really. Does he think I’m stupid? I know… I know I’m Chris, so why would he tell me that? He hardly pays attention to me, not like Kevin-”

Instinctively, Jon brings his fist down on the table, startling me. “Ryan doesn’t give you attention because you’re never around Brendon! You’re never here! You’re always out doing whatever the fuck it is, with _him_ ,” Jon visibly shutters at the reference to Kevin, “Ryan doesn’t know where you are, or what you’re doing. You know he’s stopped going out? He’s at home all the time besides practice, waiting for you to get home. He just wants to talk to you Brendon, he wants to hang out with you. I want to hang out with you, hell, even Spencer does. We miss you.” I’m quiet still, trying to process what he’s saying. I’m trying to listen to him, but for whatever reason, the words are not sticking, my mind is a screen blinking ‘does not compute’. 

“Brendon, I hate to say this but,” Cassie begins to interject, and I prepare myself. I’m sure she’s heard all about the recent events from Jon, all truth, and no embellishment from me, which makes it dangerous; the truth hardly flatters anyone. “The attention Kevin gives you is only for him to gain in the end. Jon told you, he’s used you Bren, and he’s continuing to do so. Ryan doesn’t give you that attention because he treats you as an equal, he treats you with respect. Not to be blunt, but Ryan isn’t jerking you off so that you do more in return, Kevin’s doing that. It isn’t fair to you. You deserve someone who sees you as an equal and says nice things to you and does nice things for you because they want to, not because they expect something in exchange.”

They don’t get it, do they? I don’t stand a chance against Jessica, I could never. You cannot beat a pregnant woman, there’s no way. They have history and a future in the making. Ryan and I have a few small kisses, a few deep talks. There is no comparison here. “I’m not good enough,” I say slowly, standing up. Cassie begins to stand up too, but Jon grabs her arm, shaking his head. “I can’t compare.”

Quietly, Cassie begins speaking down to the table, “I can’t make you listen to me, Brendon,” she says as I grab my hoodie off the couch arm. “But I think that you should still be Ryan’s friend, regardless of whether or not he likes you. I don’t know how much he likes you, to what degree at least, but I do know he likes you as a friend. Everyone needs friends Brendon, even you. You can’t let Kevin be the only person you talk to, you can’t let him control you like that.”

I slam Jon’s apartment door loudly.


	15. "I Don't Love Her"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**“I Don’t Love Her”**

Kevin isn’t surprised to find me on his doorstep when he arrives home from visiting with Christina, but he is shocked when he notices I’ve been drinking. I stumbled, metaphorically at least, upon a party on my way over here, and left actually stumbling. Today has been too much, I can’t handle it. I need to forget, I need to forget about Ryan. About Jessica, and their goddamn baby. “Brendon, dude, let’s get you inside,” he says, leading me through the front door.

“I noticed your parents aren’t home,” I slur, my footing unsteady as he guides me through the house to his room. “You should give me more to drink.”

Kevin chuckles to himself but shakes his head, “I can’t do that, sorry. It seems like you’ve had enough to drink tonight, you should lay down,” he sits me down on his bed and turns the bedroom light on. I lean back a bit and smile to myself. _See?_ I ask Ryan, Cassie, and Jon in my head, _He’s so nice to me._ Kevin is so nice, he’s worried about me drinking. He wants me to rest, he isn’t calling me names. I deserve him. We are good for each other, we are golden. I gesture for him to sit on the bed next to me and I lean my head on his shoulder and turn my head more into his neck. “You should kiss me,” I whisper to him before lifting a hand up and turning his head towards mine. 

He begins kissing me softly and turns his body more towards mine, as I do the same. I allow myself to crawl into his lap, both my hands now on his face, attempting to pull it closer. He’s being gentle, but this isn’t what I want, I want him to be rough, I want him to kiss me like he usually does. I want to feel it, I want to know. I kiss him a bit harder and move my hands down his neck, his shoulders, then run them down his back. His hands find themselves on my hips and he begins to kiss me back with greater force, finally, I am getting what I want. I move my right hand around to his front and slide it beneath his jeans and I start palming him through his boxers. 

I giggle when I begin to feel him getting hard, and I use my other hand to push him back down against the mattress. I slip my hand under his boxers and break the kiss to whisper in his ear, “Please fuck me,” I request, for the first time. 

-

Kevin and I are laying in bed, and I’m fighting sleep. He’s sitting up, pulling his boxers up, and looking back at me. “Hey, why didn’t you reply to any of my texts I sent since we last talked?” I swear, my whole body pauses. My brain, my heart, everything. Everything stops for a split second, I feel it. When I regain thought, I’m rushing to get dressed. 

-

Ryan is crazy when I get back. He’s lucky his dad is out because the amount of noise he is making would be sure to get him yelled at. He’s throwing things, everything from articles of clothing to even books from his bookshelf, and I have a feeling it is because of me. “Where have you been?” Ryan yells when he notices me in the house. “I haven’t seen you all day, though for once you’re home before the sun sets.” I can tell that he’s pissed from the sarcasm and attitude in his voice. “Why do you keep so much from me?” He demands.

“I was with Jon,” I snap back, which makes him soften a little. It is a half lie, and I attempt to cover up the slur in my voice and wobble in my step. It’s been about two hours since my last drink, as my visit with Kevin wasn’t long, and I am still feeling heavy. I try hard to hold back more, as there are so many words attempting to free themselves. 

I think Ryan detects something is up because he pauses. I wait for it, I wait for the wave of yelling that is about to assault my ears, curious as to what he will bring up first. I guess the alcohol, and I am correct. “Have you been drinking? Are you sure you’ve been with Jon?” I nod my head, a little laggier than I intend to, but nod nonetheless. I assure him I have been with Jon, even Cassie! Believe me, Ryan, please, I silently beg for no reason. He cannot hear my thoughts. “Are you sure? Because it seems like you’ve been with Kevin.” Ryan spits, throwing my phone at me. I attempt to catch it, but my reflexes are not fast enough and it falls to the ground with a crash. “Why the fuck were you with Kevin?” He demands. “Tell me I’m wrong in thinking you were.”

I don’t notice at first glance, but once I stabilize myself with a hand on the couch and a squint of my eyes, I see that Ryan is trying to blink away tears. “I was with Jon and Cassie,” I begin, and I see him tiredly roll his eyes. “But then I had some drinks, and then yes, I went to Kevin’s. I don’t see why it matters.” My drunk ass doesn’t see anything beyond what’s right in front of my eyes, but deep down I do know. I know, I know, but I need it to be painted out before me in contrasting colours, crystal clear descriptions, the whole deal. None of that abstract bullshit. 

Ryan lets out a noise of frustration and literally throws his hands in the air. Exasperated, he shouts, “Oh I don’t know Brendon!” The sarcasm is thick, nearly dripping from his tongue. “Maybe I don’t want you hanging out with Kevin because he’s bad news! Nothing about this situation is good. He doesn’t treat you right, not in the slightest. He’s seeing you _behind his girlfriend’s back_ for fuck sakes! He hits you! I fucking hate him, Brendon, you don’t deserve that.” He begins to pace, running his hands through his hair. “What am I going to-” he corrects himself, “What are _we_ going to do with you? How can we help you, Brendon? You need help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself Brendon, you can’t.”

I cross my arms, but immediately regret it when I lose my balance and have to hold the wall for support. I try to defend myself, “I know what I’m doing Ryan, I have it handled,” but the crack in my voice gives away my facade, revealing that I don’t have it handled. 

Ryan shakes his head and sits on the couch, where on the arm my blanket and pillow still remain folded. “Look at you,” he mumbles, putting his head in his hands. “Since seeing him again all you’ve been doing is drink. Drink, drink, drink; that’s all you do. You’re still a teenager Brendon, a fucking _teenager_ and you’re throwing your life away, for a boy who wouldn’t do the same for you. Why don’t you realize that there are people who care about you, other than him, who don’t like this direction you’re heading? Your parents? Jon and his girlfriend? Spencer? Me?”

I laugh, it starts with a chuckle but builds to hysterical laughter that I can’t control, causing Ryan to look startled and concerned. “People care about me? That’s funny. My parents haven’t tried to contact me, they don’t want me, Ryan. And I mean virtually nothing to everyone else, I’m just a failure to them now.”

“You’re not a failure to me Brendon. I care about you so much, did you know that? I worry about you almost as much. You matter to me, more than anything.”

“Who is Chris? Who is he really?” Ryan visibly pales and takes a deep breath. From the couch, he looks at me across the room, still leaning against the wall next to the front door, not having moved since arriving. “Because listen up Ryan, because I’m going to say it once, alright? This isn’t the alcohol talking, it’s just the alcohol giving me the courage to say it. I like you, okay? I like you, more than a friend, more than a roommate, whatever. But you don’t like me, you like Jessica. I can’t compete with Jessica.”

“I really like you Brendon, the same way you like me. You’re Chris, really. I couldn’t tell you I liked you, I couldn’t find it in me. I didn’t think you liked me, I always thought with every kiss I was going too far. I couldn’t ruin another friendship Brendon, not after-” he stops himself and takes a deep breath. “I only have Spencer, everyone else learns to hate me. Jessica will soon enough.”

“Tell me about Jessica, you said you still like her,” I request, ignoring his confession. I begin to stumble my way across the room, and I sit on the opposite end of the couch as him. Upon sitting down, I instantly feel bad. I can smell that he’s been drinking, which is something I nearly forgot he did. _“It’s in my blood Bren. Genetics. Maybe I’ll tell you more one day.”_ The memory flashes in my mind from the night we went to Nathan’s party together, the night he also called me cute. Since living with Ryan and his father, I haven’t needed for him to ‘tell me more’ one day, I see what he meant. His father is an alcoholic, and the evidence is all over the house, and Ryan thinks he will soon become him. I feel bad because… well, it’s probably my fault he decided to drink tonight. I do know he stopped for a bit; he started drinking less when I moved in, either that or he did it secretly. 

“We have a past Brendon, we have a _baby_ on the way. You can’t just expect me to forget about that.”

“I’m not…” I take a deep breath. “I am not asking you to forget about Jessica, I’m just asking about her.”

“Jessica needs me, that much is evident. I like her too, but not to the same extent. She doesn’t like me, Brendon, she loves me. I don’t love her. I don’t want to learn to either. Once her parents find out she’s pregnant I think they’ll expect me to marry her. I can’t do that, and so I need to put a stop to this, and I need to do it now. I don’t love her, but I do like her. I don’t like her enough to marry her, though. I don’t even want to like her. I like you, and that’s what I want to focus on,” he takes a moment to catch his breath, and scoots closer to me on the couch. “Brendon, do you like me too, like, actually like me? I know you said you did but...” 

I pause, isn’t this what I wanted? Didn’t I want Ryan to like me? Out of the corner of my eye I see him look at me, and one of his hands reaches up and touches my chin, turning my head to face him too. His eyes search mine, looking for some hint of emotion that will answer his question since my mouth refuses to move. He repeats the question, desperation rising in his voice. He grabs my hand and I am snapped out of my drunken trance, just enough to surge forward and press my lips to his. He moves with me, bringing a hand up to the back of my neck tilting my head to the side that would allow for the kiss to deepen, while his other hand moves to my thigh. 

_Flash!_

_“Brendon come here, let me touch you,” he requests, trying to pull me closer. We are sitting on the hood of his mustang in the middle of the desert, the action of the city far behind us._

_“No,” I tell him. “I want to go home. Take me home, please.” I’m almost crying, I’m trying to get away. I don’t want to be here._

_“Come on now B, you don’t mean that,” Kevin says, grasping my thigh firmly. I wince, I can see the bruise blooming behind my eyelids, but I know if I were to look, one wouldn’t be there yet. Yet. Yet, yet, yet._

_He kisses me, and I feel disgusting. His hand moves up, above my waistband, then beneath it._

_I feel more disgusting._

_He moves his body so that he is on top of me, I muffle my sound of discontent. I feel his erection against my leg and I nearly vomit in his mouth. “Kiss me back,” he growls, but I do not listen. I stay still, I only move to struggle. He slaps me, and a tear slips away._

_My virginity slips away._

_Any sanity I had left slips away._

_Everything slips away._

I pull away, I move quickly off of the couch and to the door. My breathing is erratic and tears are threatening my eyes. I had forgotten, but how could I forget? How could I forget something that? I see Ryan say something, maybe he said my name or asked if I am okay, but I can’t hear him. All I can hear is the blood in my ears and the beat of my heart, a steady hammering against my ribcage. I think of that night, and I think of tonight, my encounter with Kevin. How could I do that? How could I let him… 

I rush to the bathroom, I ignore the bottles littering the counter; someone must have been cleaning. I bend over the toilet and I vomit, emptying my stomach of everything bad, wishing I could do the same with my mind. Ryan is in the doorway now, words still coming out of his mouth that I can’t comprehend. 

How could I do this to Ryan? How could I…

I’m up off the ground, and I’m racing. I rush past him and I’m out the door, desperate to get away from the mess I have created, but not before I grab a bottle of sleeping aids off the counter; I’ll need them. 

I ask myself, is this the best idea? Leaving Ryan clueless as to what happened, potentially hurting him? I decide I do not care, I couldn’t be there, not like this. 

I stumble down the middle of the street, counting the streetlights as I go, struggling to grasp on to something that is real, or in the present at least. _3, 4, 5, 6…_ I remove the bottle of pills from my pocket, silently wondering why Ryan had them in the first place. I have seen him take them every so often, but I’m not sure why. I open the bottle and shake a few into my hand before popping them into my mouth dry. My mind begins to blur, from fatigue or the alcohol, I do not know, and I begin to lose count of how many lights there are because suddenly one looks like two, and two four.

I continue to walk, making turns that are spontaneous, but feel right in my mind. I notice my feet starting to ache and I hear cars in the distance. I silently hope that none of them hit me, so I stray to the sidewalk, and then to the grass. I lay on my back beneath a streetlight, looking up at it. I watch as insects circle around the light, and soon the light begins to blur again, and my eyes struggle to stay open.

I let sleep consume me.


	16. "Let's Give These Boys Some Privacy"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**“Let's Give These Boys Some Privacy”**

_“How much did he drink last night? Did he take anything?” A female voice asks._

_“I don’t know… He wasn’t like this when he left my place, I don’t know where he went after that. I can ask Ryan what happened, but I’m not sure if he went home right away.” A male voice responds._

_“Ryan?” A second, deep, gruff, male voice asks, clearly confused._

_“Dear, you know Ryan, he was the nice boy who came over that one day,” the female replies, and the deep-voiced male snorts._

_“The fag,” the second man clarifies, distastefully._

_The first man clears his throat, “I’ll call him right now.”_

_I can feel myself trying to pay attention, trying to decipher who is speaking, but I can’t. I struggle, attempting to open my eyes, but I can’t._

_-_

_“He came to my house, but not right away. Jon, did you say he left your house in the early afternoon? He didn’t show up at my place until after midnight. I know he was with-,” a new voice stops, and then continues. “He was with someone from school after he saw you, and before he came back to my house. When he got to my house he was already drunk, I have no idea how much he had to drink by then, I don’t even know for sure who gave him the alcohol. At my house we… We had a fight. Then, something in him snapped. He looked pale and he wasn’t responding to anything I was saying, actually, I’m not even sure he could hear me. Then he got up from where he was sitting, and he ran to the bathroom. He got sick, and he still wasn’t replying to me. He got up in a hurry, swiped my some of my pills I use to sleep from the counter and left. He probably took some of those. He left my house around… I’m not sure, maybe one? Two at the latest.”_

_“Is that even safe?” The original female voice asks. The new voice hesitates._

_“They’re more of a… natural aid I guess, or more natural than other medications. They have some side effects, obviously sleep, nausea, hallucinations in extreme cases, things like that… I’m sure it won’t affect him much, Mrs. Urie. Not dramatically at least. He had a lot to drink last night I’m assuming and adding this in, well… Not the smartest idea of his, but I do think he will be okay. If you want to take him to the hospital, you can.”_

_I can’t tell if I’m dreaming, or if this is real. I want to wake up, but at the same time…_

-

I wake with a start, surging up from a bed, and vomiting on the floor. My head is throbbing, and I feel so dizzy and disoriented as I wipe my mouth on my shirt sleeve. Upon looking around, I realize I’m in my bedroom back at my parents’ house, the curtains wide open, allowing bright rays of sunlight to paint the room with light. I cough, my memory from last night blurring, worsening my headache.

Beyond my bedroom door, which is open, I hear commotion in the kitchen. I involuntarily cough again, my throat scratchy suddenly. The voices in the kitchen halt and I hear the steps on the stairs creaking. Soon enough, my mom pokes her head in the doorway. “Brendon, honey!” She exclaims upon seeing me awake, rushing into the room. She glances at the mess I made on the floor and frowns a bit. She turns back to the doorway, and yells toward the kitchen, “Jonathan! Could you please bring me a garbage can and some soap and water? Brendon got sick,” I chuckle at my mom calling Jon “Jonathan”, but it only causes me to cough again. “Brendon, please try to rest your throat. You wouldn’t want to get sick again,” my mom chastises, causing me to be quiet.

Jon appears suddenly, looking very tired but alert at the same time. He has obvious bags developing under his eyes, no doubt from loss of sleep, but he is eager to bring the supplies my mom asked for.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you’re awake,” he announces, setting the supplies down. He tries to play it off as cool and joking since he smirks as he says it, bu in his eyes I can tell that he was scared. “We’ve all been worried about you.”

“I don’t…” I hesitate, taking a deep breath. “I don’t remember much of what happened.”

My mom looks over at Jon with a worried look as she begins to clean up the floor.

“No need to think about that right now Bren,” Jon says quickly, sending my mom a look that says ‘trust me’. “What you need to do now is rest.”

“How long have I been asleep?” I ask, sitting up straighter. Jon hesitates and begins to count on his fingers.

“I’m not sure, but you left my house almost 48 hours ago. You left Ryan’s around 30 hours ago. You need to have something to drink, here,” Jon passes me a glass of water that was sitting on the bedside table. “Do you mind leaving us alone for a bit?” He asks my mom, and usually, I would be appalled considering the circumstances, but it’s Jon and my mom loves him, so she complies with a small smile. When she closes the door behind her, Jon turns back to me. “You’re so fucking stupid Brendon. What were you trying to do? Were you trying to kill yourselfÉ”

I look away, uncertain. Jon gestures for me to move over enough so that he has room to sit next to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and sighs.

“I just wanted to forget. I don't remember what exactly, but I wanted to forget everything.”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” he says. “Ryan called me after you left his house. He wanted to know if you came back, which you hadn’t. He and I went out looking for you, but we couldn’t find you. At six yesterday morning, your mom called me and told me that her and your dad found you passed out on the street. I came over as soon as I could and sent a text to Ryan. He was scared shitless Brendon. He skipped his afternoon classes and came here, he was here for, like, eight hours. He brought your phone back,” Jon gestures to the bedside table, where my phone sits with a piece of paper. He begins to whisper, “Don’t tell Ryan this, but Kevin stopped by an hour ago. Who the hell is up at seven in the morning?”

Kevin.

I lean forward, my breathing quickening as the memories of the other night come back to me. Tears prick my eyes and begin to fall, dripping from my face.

“Hey, Brendon, hey, it’s okay.”

There’s a knock on the door then, and my mom walks back in carrying a plate of food.

“You should eat something,” she says, smiling again. I brush the tears off my face and wipe my nose on my shirt sleeve before thanking her. Outside, we start to hear yelling.

“Go to school or something! Leave that boy alone!” We hear my dad yell at someone. Jon gets up off the bed and moves to the window, pulling the curtain aside.

“You can’t keep me from seeing him, I just want to see if he’s okay!” Ryan shouts back, audibly agitated by my dad. Mom sighs loudly.

“Every time they see each other, I swear.” She excuses herself and we hear her go downstairs and open the front door.

“Boyd, let the boy be. Ryan, sweetie, Brendon’s awake now. You should come say hello.” Jon has opened the window by this point, allowing us to hear their conversation. I can picture in my mind my dad stomping his foot while Ryan smiles smugly.

A few minutes later, the three of them enter the room. Ryan races to my side, and I turn to face the other way. He’s whispering apologies to me, which I don’t listen to because it isn't him who should be apologizing.

“Jon, it’s good to see you again. Where’s your lady this morning?” My father asks Jon, who is still standing by the window. He makes sure to put emphasis on the fact that Jon is seeing a girl.

“I decided to let her sleep in today, I’m sure she’ll visit later.”

“Five minutes, boy,” My dad says, pointing at Ryan. “Then you’re off to school, or I’ll drag you there myself.”

“Let’s give the boys some privacy, hun,” My mom suggests, gently grasping my dad’s sleeve.

We sit in silence for the first minute or so. Ryan opens his mouth first, but I cut him off.

“I’m sorry. Don’t you dare apologize Ryan, because I know I just slept for over twenty-four hours but I will climb out of this bed and kick your ass if you so much as utter an ‘I’m sorry’,” I rush tiredly. He appears to be caught off guard and across the room, Jon does too. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t about you.”

“Who is it about then?” Ryan prods.

“Ryan-” Jon warns. “Don’t do this.”

“Because to me, it sure as hell seems like it’s about me. I’m the one you’ve been avoiding, yeah? I’m the one who pressured you into saying if you actually liked me or not. I’m the one you left Brendon. But sure, tell me who this is about,” Ryan is evidently angry, not that I can blame him. He doesn’t know everything. He knows some, but not all. Usually, I would be mad, or upset at him for snapping like he did, but not this time. I let him do it, I take it. “I was scared shitless Bren, I could hardly sleep. I had no idea where you were or who you were with. I called Kevin myself to see if he was with you, but he didn’t pick up. After that, I physically went to his house and was even _civil_ because I just wanted to know where you were. All before six in the morning when your parents found you.”

“Ryan, I think that’s enough,” Jon says, standing up. “You should get to school.”

Jon, though usually an easygoing guy, can be very stern and serious when he wants to, or when he needs to. The tone in his voice leaves no room for jokes as he suggests Ryan leaves and all three of us know he means business, so Ryan doesn't object. He nods at me before he exits the room.

“You okay Bren?” Jon asks, sitting next to me on the bed again. “You’ve hardly touched your breakfast dude, you should eat it.”

Did I mention that Jon can also be a motherly nag?

-

A few hours later, Spencer stops by.

“Ryan’s car just pulled up in the driveway,” Jon informs me and I attempt to hold back a groan. “Wait, Spencer was driving. He’s alone, no Ryan.”

Jon goes to get Spencer and when they return, he seems relieved to see me.

“I’ve come to apologize,” he begins, catching me off guard. “For Ryan. I heard he was really insensitive earlier. I should have kept a better watch on him, I shouldn’t have let him come by this morning. He’s been really out of it and manic at the same time. He’s… twitchy to say the least. I’m not going to say his outburst was acceptable or justifiable, but I think you see where he’s coming from, right?” I nod my head. “But I do want to apologize, he shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sure he feels guilty about it, and I know at a later time he will say he’s sorry.”

I don’t verbally respond, but I do nod my head. I have no desire to talk to him, not because I am mad at him but because I’m still having trouble processing everything that has happened.

“I took his car partly because I don’t have one, and because he would be less likely to walk here to talk more. And right now, Jon and I have both agreed that you need some space from him right now, what do you think?” I nod my head again and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“My parents say I’m actually going back to school tomorrow, so I don’t think ‘space’ is in the plan,” I reply, opening my eyes to see them sending uneasy glances at each other. “What? I can handle myself guys. I can handle Ryan.”

Spencer sighs but agrees before announcing that he should get back to school before Ryan throws a hissy fit about him stealing his car. Jon leaves too, promising that he’ll be back later once he talks to Cassie and has a shower of his own. Mom tells me just to call if I need her.

I feel suffocated, but I know they’re just worried.

After talking with Spencer, I’m still not mad at Ryan but rather, worried. Spencer said something about him having to watch over Ryan, and how Ryan’s been thrown for a loop; I know it’s because of me. Personally, I knew since I heard his voice through my dreamy haze that this would affect him, why wouldn’t it? I never considered how _much_ it would affect him, though. It’s all my fault.

Downstairs, I hear the front door close loudly. Out of curiosity, I climb out of bed and move to the window. I stumble at first, not extremely used to standing since I have only gotten out of bed a few times since the incident. Outside, my dad grumpily walks, more like stomps, down the front steps and to the car while holding a duffel bag. He begins to throw what seems to be a small temper tantrum, kicking the tire of the car and throwing the door to the driver’s seat open.

I see him pop the trunk and throw the bag into it, slamming it shut before going back in day. What does this mean? Is my dad leaving my mom?


	17. "You'll Never Be Father of the Year"

**Part One:**

**_The Terms Exes and Lovers Can Be Used Interchangeably_ **

**Chapter Sixteen:**

**“You’ll Never Be Father of the Year”**

I like to think that I’ve gone through a lot in my short years of life. Sometimes, I even think that my life has gotten as bad or as good as it can get, and that’s it; no more. I think that _sometimes_ and I am always wrong. I also think my life couldn’t get any more screwed up or confusing, but again, I’m wrong. 

“ _Rehab_?” I shriek, looking around the room wildly. My mom stands at the door, face etched with worry after telling me that no, I’m not going to school, I’m going to a rehabilitation clinic to ‘recover’ from my alcohol dependence. My what? 

My father stands next to her, clearly disappointed. I want to scream at him, tell him that if anyone in this house needs to go to rehab, it’s him. “It’s for the best, son. We can’t risk this getting any worse than it is. Your body is still developing, alcohol is no good for it.” he says, causing me to scowl. 

Jon is on my mom’s other side. He has tried explaining to her over the past few days, since they found me, that I’m not a developing alcoholic. He told her that I’ve only ever had a few drinks, I’ve been drunk twice at most. He says all she did was smile sadly and say she can’t take chances, she doesn’t want me to be like my dad. Personally, I think she doesn’t believe him because she thinks that I’m simply a reckless teenager out to disobey every rule they have set. 

“I’m not going to rehab,” I state, throwing my backpack that I had grabbed to go to school, on the floor next to my bed. “I passed out from drinking once. Look! I’m fine! I’m still alive!”

“But what if you weren’t, Brendon?” My mom yells back, her voice sounding sad. “Did you want to die? I don’t know whether to take you to rehab or the mental ward at the hospital! I’m trying my best! I’m trying to help you!” She presses both of her hands to her face, shielding it from my view. I hear her begin to cry softly, and my dad shoots me a hard look as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. I haven’t seen my mom like this before, so beaten and broken down, and I’m the one who did it. I slump my shoulders and sit on my bed. 

“We’re leaving in half an hour. You better be ready to leave, or else. Grace, why don’t you go take a breath, okay? Make yourself a tea,” my dad is calm, but I can see that he has to try very hard to remain so. When my mom leaves, I speak again. 

“Why does it matter to you what I do? I wasn’t even living here. You kicked me out. You didn’t want me. Some parent you are, huh dad? What made you start to care? It’s too late, you’ll never be father of the year.”

He steps forward, his face red with anger. I see his upraised hand and I close my eyes, waiting for impact. 

It doesn’t come. I wait, I count to five before I hear Jon’s voice. 

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Urie,” Jon commands, quiet but firm. I open my eyes to see him holding my dad’s wrist. “You do not hit your son. I don’t care that he’s being an asshole, you don’t fucking hit your son. Not in front of me, not when I’m not here because I will hear about it. If I hear about it, he’s gone. You know Grace loves him and wants him here, so I suggest not pissing me off and making me call CPS. I’m not bluffing, try me, I dare you.” I sit back, startled. I also haven’t seen Jon like this, so threatening and demanding. “He’ll be ready to go, I’ll make sure of it.”

With that, my dad leaves. Jon sighs heavily before joining me on my bed. He gives me a look, and I know this is what I have to do. If not for me, for my mom. But I still find it to be pointless, considering I’m not an alcoholic. He pats my shoulder, which I think is supposed to be comforting but only makes me feel worse. 

“You can do it, now I’ll be right back, I need to make a call.”

-

I didn’t even make it in the door before all the commotion started again. 

We got there, Jon came with us, riding the backseat with me as I ignored everyone in the car, and instead took to counting all the street signs we passed. I lost count once I hit double digits and when Jon started poking my shoulder, attempting to make me smile. I hadn’t planned on making a scene, I’m not that dramatic and that’s just plain embarrassing, but as it turns out, the scene was made for me. Just as we were walking up to the front doors, Kevin came running over out of nowhere. While Jon seemed unaffected, the rest of us were surprised and confused. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Urie! Can I speak to you for a moment? I’ll be quick!” He requested, with a hopeful smile on his face. My parents shared questioning glances before nodding their heads. They’ve always liked Kevin, they’ve seen him around at our church and always asked if I was friends with him because he was always looking our way. “Great, thank you! You see, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. While I know it is your decision and you want what’s best for him, I don’t think you should send Brendon to rehab. I’m very involved with sports at our school and because of this, I’m at nearly every party. I’ve only ever seen Brendon at a few, and I’ve hardly ever seen him drink. Yes, I know he got drunk and passed out a few nights ago, but I’m to blame for that. My friend from the hockey team was throwing a party and I invited Brendon thinking he would enjoy spending time with people. My friends peer pressured him into drinking more than he should’ve. It was a one-time thing, honest.”

Next to me, Jon looks satisfied. I make a mental note to ask him about it later if I don’t find out before. 

My mom shifts her balance from side to side, considering the information that has been presented to her. Inside, I’m screaming, hoping that she’ll reconsider, but I’m also scared and confused. Why is Kevin helping me? Why is he putting his reputation of ‘good-church-boy’ at risk, for me? “I understand you’re worried about Brendon, but this really isn’t any of your business Kevin. Regardless of peer pressure, Brendon has made choices and those choices not only reflect badly on him but us too as his parents,” My dad begins to speak, his voice sounding even but there’s the occasional trace of annoyance. I’m surprised, my dad has always boasted about Kevin and how studious and perfect he is. “This is a decision we feel is best for him and while I appreciate the concern, you’re not changing my mind.”

Despite dad’s sureness, beside him, my mom is still quiet; Kevin is peeling away at her, I take my opportunity. “Mom, really, I won’t do it again. I swear. You can ground me if you really want to, homeschool me, let me never leave the house again, but please, don’t make me go in there,” I beg her. I once read that sometimes, rehab doesn’t help. Addictions, though that isn’t what this is, last a lifetime. Yes, rehab helps certain aspects of it, like temporarily force you to quit and introduce alternatives, but it can never, ever remove the addiction completely. My mother knows this, she knows how addictions bury themselves deep in our bones, how withdrawal brings us to our knees, it can make us beg. She knows, she’s seen it happen before, she sees it happen every day when my father cracks open a beer after a day of work. She is smart enough not to mistake addiction for teenage rebelliousness. That explains the alcohol, but the pills? The pills are because of the secret I can’t share with them. I need to compromise. “Mom, the beer isn’t the problem, you know that! It was the pills! Remember the pills?” 

I’m throwing myself under the bus, but not without cause. It’ll run over my hand, cause some slight damage but my proposition will be enough to heal it. “So-” My dad grabs my arm.

“Pills are an addiction, boy!” My dad’s hands grab the steering wheel of the bus and makes it swerves, aimed directly at my head. A death blow. “Rehab, You’re going to rehab whether you like it or not. Do you want to do this to your mother? Hurt her?”

We look to her, to where she stands slightly away from the rest of us; dad, now closer to me, grasping my forearm roughly, and Jon and Kevin standing next to us, Jon with a hand now on my dad’s shoulder. I’m sure from inside the clinic, someone is watching. 

She takes a small breath and steps forward. “Boyd…” she says quietly, eyes pleading. “Maybe we should reconsider. I don’t think rehab would be the best place for him, I told you that from the beginning. I think therapy would be better. Obviously, there’s… there’s something wrong, can’t you see it?” My eyes flick over to Kevin, who pointedly looks away, then to Jon, who bites his lip. “I don’t- I don’t know _what’s_ wrong, but I know that there is something. This could have been a cry for help, Boyd. Please.”

With a grunt and a long silence full of hesitation, my father reluctantly agrees. Jon sends a look I can’t decipher to Kevin, who nods at us before bidding us goodbye. As he leaves, we lock eyes, and I wonder if I should thank him or not. 

I’m ushered away before I can make a choice. 

-

I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like doctors’ offices. I don’t like the dentist. Basically, I don’t like anywhere that makes me wait for potentially bad news. Poor me, that’s life. 

Doesn’t mean I like it. 

My parents take me to see our family doctor, and we wait for what seems like years in the waiting room because we made no appointment. Originally, the receptionist told us to go home and come back when we schedule something, but my father wouldn’t have that. He pulled my mother aside and talked with her harshly, I didn’t hear the whole conversation but what I _did_ hear was “I don’t want that kid being a fucking flight risk in my own house” like okay dad, I got it. Don’t die under your roof, will do. 

You’ll have to excuse my sarcasm, I’m just so fed up with my dad at this point, everything I hear him say is stupid and makes me want to punch him in the face. 

That’s what I tell my doctor, Dr. Woode, when we are alone. 

She asks questions about my mental health and I reply hesitantly, withdrawn. I by no means tell her everything, because let’s be honest, who wants a therapist? Who wants someone scraping under their fingernails, trying to get their way inside you? That’s what a therapist will do. They’ll ask me questions, trying to know more. They’ll try to make their way into my bloodstream so they can get in my brain and dig around, finding out anything they want to know. 

I don’t want that. 

I want my secrets. 

I want to stay lucid, I don’t want drugs. 

To humour my doctor, I tell her this. 

“Brendon, if there is something going on in your brain, drugs aren't the only option. I understand you don’t want to try therapy either, but how do you expect to get better if you don’t test out your options? Besides, medication doesn’t alter your behaviour much if it’s the right medication.” She sounds reasonable, speaking to me in a sickly sweet voice. I remember when I was a kid and I got the chicken pox, she laughed when we came to visit her when I said I wanted to play connect the dots. Oh, how things have changed. 

Do doctors lie? Do they stretch the truth? That’s another thing I don’t like about them. I read on the internet- I know, amazing source- that certain medications make people more groggy and disconnected. Sometimes, I read, it makes people feel worse. I don’t want that. “I don’t want medication,” I stress again. 

You know, assuming something is wrong with me. Which there isn’t. 

_But there is_ , a voice in my head whispers.

I smile at Dr. Woode, “If I say I’ll think about it, is that enough?”

She sits forward and laces her hands together before setting them on her desk in front of her. “Brendon,” she starts, causing me to sigh and lean back in my seat. “Your parents are concerned you’re suicidal, or alcohol dependent. Anything you say to me I will keep secret, patient-doctor confidentiality, except if I think you’re going to hurt yourself, someone else, or someone is hurting you. I need to know if you’re okay.”

I think that is her first mistake; saying she’ll tell if someone says they’re going to hurt or get hurt. Not just in my case, but in general. If you ask me, kids keep things from their parents for a reason, they don’t do it for fun. That just makes them keep it in. 

The words “or someone hurting you” ring in my head. I know I should talk to her. I know I need to. But I can’t. 

I never seem to be able to.


End file.
